


Hen Night

by ElleMartin



Category: Dramione - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Humorous Ending, Inappropriate Humor, My First Smut, Sexual Humor, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2018-11-13 19:03:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11191428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleMartin/pseuds/ElleMartin
Summary: Ginny Weasley is finally marrying Harry Potter, and she has one request of her maid of honor Hermione Granger; she wants a Muggle-style hen night! Cue the male strippers, drunken debauchery, and... Doctor Draco? Funny with a side helping of smut, all in the name of a good time.





	1. Who Wants To See Some Naked Men?

“Alright ladies, listen up!” Hermione Granger called out across the living room of her flat to the group of women milling about chatting. One by one, they all silenced their conversations, and turned their attention towards her.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “Now, we all know why we’re here tonight. Ginny? Where’d Ginny go?” Hermione spied the redhead standing with Luna Lovegood over by her kitchen. “Ginny, get over here! Thank you. Okay, like I was saying, we all know why we’re here. Our little Ginny Weasley is going to become Mrs. Ginny POTTER in one week!”

A raucous cheer went up amongst the ladies. Hermione waited a few beats for the hoots and hollers to die down before continuing.

“Now, now…” she said, waving her hands for quiet. “As some of you may know, Ginny here had one request before she changes her last name, and confines herself to marital servitude for the rest of her life.”

“Hey!” Ginny yelled. “There will be no servitude on my end, thank you very much!”

The ladies broke out into laughter and cheers of “You tell her!” and “Here! Here!”.

Ginny beamed. “If anything it’ll be Harry serving me!” More laughter.

“Okay, okay, I take back the servitude remark!” Hermione joked.

“Thank you,” said Ginny.

“Alright, back to the matter at hand,” Hermione once again called for attention. It was like herding cats with these girls. “Ginny’s one request was for a very special hen night. As she’s marrying a wizard that was raised in the Muggle world, she has deemed that tonight be a…. wait for it… Muggle Hen Night!”

More cheers bombarded Hermione’s ears. There were also some startled gasps mixed in, and a couple of the witches present just looked at Hermione confused.

“What exactly is a Muggle hen night?” Romilda Vane asked nervously.

Hermione sighed. She still wasn’t sure why Ginny had invited a girl who had once tried to poison her fiancé, and successfully poisoned her brother Ron Weasley instead of Harry. Sure, love potion wasn’t exactly poison, but Hermione still considered it thus given Romilda’s tactics. She had to assume that the invite was extended to Romilda strictly because they had roomed together at Hogwarts.

“It means no magic,” Ginny explained. “And we’ll go out on the town, and do Muggle things, like dance in a nightclub for instance.” 

“Thank you, Ginny,” Hermione said. “Yes, we will be going out amongst the Muggles this evening. All wands will be left here for authenticity purposes. We will start the evening at a dance club, then another if we have time. We will finish the evening here with what’s called a lingerie shower and a sleepover. Any questions?”

“Yes, I have one,” Imogene McLaggen, another of Ginny’s old roommates, called out. “Why are we going to two dance clubs?”

Hermione blushed. “Well, um, the first club is for, um, special dancing.”

“It’s a strip club!” Ginny squealed, hopping up and down on the balls of her feet in excitement. “Naked men will be dancing for us! And we get to touch them and put Muggle money in their underwear!”

“Ooh!” The ladies were starting to match Ginny’s excitement at that announcement.

“I hear that strip clubs are all the rage in the Muggle world,” Luna Lovegood pronounced.

Ginny nodded. “Oh, yes. It’s very traditional.”

“But where are we going to get Muggle money for the naked Muggles?” Flora Carrow asked.

She and her twin sister Fauna (stupidest names ever, Hermione thought) appeared the most nervous about participating in their “Muggle” frivolities. Hermione had been baffled to see their names on the list. The twins had been in Slytherin house at school, which was known for turning out Dark wizards. While the Carrow twins didn’t participate themselves, most of the of age witches and wizards from Slytherin house had fought on the Dark Lord Voldemort's side during the Second Wizarding War. Everyone deserves a second chance, Hermione scolded herself. The fact that the Carrow twins were here at all was a testament to that.

“Ladies, ladies!” Hermione clapped her hands to gain their attention. “Okay. Ginny and I will be providing the Muggle money for you to use tonight. We will pay for all of the drinks, as well as the dancers on the stage. You may be given an opportunity to pay for private dances-“ more oohs “-but that will come out of your own pocket.”

A few ladies “aww”ed in disappointment.

“I can spot you if you want!” Ginny announced. “Harry added me to the Potter vaults already, and told me to use whatever we need for tonight.”

“I’m not sure that this is what he meant,” Hermione said to Ginny privately. Ginny just shrugged. There would be no dampening of her excitement this evening.

“Okay, yes, well, we will be leaving in about fifteen minutes.” Hermione spoke to the ensemble. “Use this time to finish eating. Please, there are plenty of snacks. Also, the loo is down the hall on your right if you need it. I’m just going to freshen up in my room for a moment.”

Hermione made her way back to her bedroom without actually running before anyone could approach her with more questions. The night hadn’t even truly begun, and she was already craving her normal solitude. 

“This is going to be torture,” she muttered.

She would never do this for anyone besides Ginny. The two women had been through too much together for Hermione to say no to her now. As thrilled as she was that Ginny and Harry were finally getting married- they’d waited five years since the war ended, which was four and a half more years than Hermione had ever expected- she had balked at the offer to be Ginny’s maid of honor. She would do anything for her best friends though; Harry, Ron, and Ginny had all stood by her side as they took down Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters together. Certainly she could now suck it up to stand beside Ginny and Harry on their happiest of days. 

Hermione sighed heavily, turning to her mirror to check her appearance one more time before leading this merry band of witches out to the Muggle world. Ginny had insisted on sexy Muggle attire, and was probably at that moment helping the Carrow twins transfigure the old fashioned robes that the Wizarding world preferred into Muggle miniskirts or something.

Hermione herself had chosen a very short, daring sleeveless black dress that clung to her body more than she would have liked. In an attempt at some modesty, she’d picked a dress with a mock turtleneck, and paired the dress with thigh high black stiletto boots, leaving only a couple of inches between where the dress ended and the boots began if she kept the dress pulled down. She’d left her insane mass of bushy hair down, and though she’d used a few drops of Sleakeasy hair potion to tame it, her hair had only reduced in volume about an inch. 

Ginny had insisted on doing Hermione's makeup, and she could concede that the subtle smoky shades on her eyes made her look fierce and sexy. Ginny had crowed with delight over Hermione's finished look, and declared her to be the sexiest witch in the group. She had also declared loudly that she would be okay cancelling the sleepover, or even moving it to Harry’s home in Grimmauld Place, because surely Hermione would be bringing home a man with this look. Hermione had just grimaced and shook her head. She would not be bringing anyone home with her this evening, and she really wished Ginny would stop trying to fix her up. She was perfectly happy with her life as it was.

“Hermione, hurry up!” Ginny yelled, banging on the bedroom door. “It’s time to go get naked with Muggles!”

Hermione flung open the door. “I have already told you several times that you will not be getting naked. No one is getting naked tonight, except for the paid dancers, and only because that is their job.”

“I know, I know,” Ginny giggled. “It’s just too much fun to rile you up! Oh, Hermione, I am so glad you’re doing this for me! No one else would have understood what I wanted tonight.”

“So, what? You only chose me as your maid of honor because I’m a Muggleborn?”

“Duh,” Ginny joked. “That, and I knew you wouldn't say no.”

Hermione threw an arm around Ginny’s shoulders, steering the younger witch back to the living room. “You’re lucky I love you, Gin.”

When they returned to living room, Hermione passed around a jar for each witch to put their wand in, while Ginny made sure everyone looked like the Muggles in the magazines she had been studying for tonight. Satisfied that everyone was cooperating with her scheme, Ginny turned to Hermione and declared them ready to go.

“Alright, ladies, let’s go see some naked men!”


	2. Wandless Witches Meet Naked Muggles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of penis in this chapter. Seriously. Move along if you're under eighteen. Also, let's see who notices my little homage to a true Dramione classic, "Pound of Flesh", in this chapter.

“Mione….” Ginny stumbled up to her, glass of champagne held tight in her hand.  
“No.”  
“You can’t just say ‘no’,” Ginny whined. “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”  
“I’m saying no to ‘Mione’,” Hermione told her. “I don’t do nicknames. You know this.”  
“But it’s my night, and I’m drunk,” Ginny pouted.  
“No excuses.” Hermione said.  
“Fine, Hermione,” Ginny said, plopping down on the booth, and dropping her head onto Hermione’s shoulder. “I have a bone to pick with you.”  
“Apropos for our setting to be picking bones,” Hermione joked, waving a hand around the strip club..  
“Huh?” Ginny just blinked back owlishly.  
Hermione shook her head. “Nevermind. What’s wrong? Are you not having fun?”  
“No, I’m not.”  
“What? Why not?”  
“They’re not naked!” Ginny shouted. “You promised me naked Muggle men!”  
Hermione looked towards the shirtless man grinding his, albeit still covered, crotch in a random woman’s face.  
“Gin, they’re pretty naked to me.”  
“Well, not to me!” Ginny said, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. “They take their clothes off, but not their little underwear! I wanna see their…. You know. Their things!”  
Hermione burst out laughing. “Ginny, are you sure you’re ready to get married? You can’t even say the word ‘penis’, or goodness, at least say ‘cock’!”  
“Oh, shut up,” Ginny slurred before extricating herself from the booth, and toddling over to join the other ladies by the stage.  
Hermione sighed. She had reserved two large booths that sat eight a piece, complete with bottle service, but so far, she was the only one making use of them. Ignoring the champagne bottles, Hermione picked up her seltzer water with a lime twist. She’d made a promise not to drink tonight. It wouldn’t do for the one in charge to get drunk and lose her head. Leave that to the bride.  
At the very least, the others seemed to be enjoying themselves. The Carrow twins were so close, they were practically leaning on the stage, fat wads of pound notes clenched in their fists, watching the dancers with awestruck eyes. Romilda was grinning saucily at every male in the place, even the waiters. Ginny crowed with delight as the current dancer on stage through his shirt out to the crowd. Poor Luna could do little more than gawk as it landed on her head.  
“Did you see that?” Ginny screamed as she ran back to the Hermione's booth. “That was awesome!”  
“I saw,” Hermione said with a grimace. “Some strange man’s sweaty shirt on my face is not my idea of awesome though.”  
Ginny rolled her eyes. “You’re being such a buzzkill, Mi- Hermione.”  
“I’m sorry, Ginny, really, I am,” Hermione said. “This just isn’t my thing. The music gives me a headache.” “Then why did you plan to bring us here?” Ginny asked. “We could have just stayed at your flat.”  
“And deprive you of naked Muggles on your hen night?” Hermione laughed. “Not likely!”  
Ginny picked up Hermione's seltzer, and sniffed it, before setting it back down in disgust. “Look at this! You’re not even drinking!”  
“I want to keep a clear head while I’m in charge,” Hermione said.  
“Surely a glass or two of champagne won’t hurt!” Ginny argued. “Besides, we’re not apparating. I want you to drink. No, I need you to drink. It’s an order of the bride.”  
“But-“  
“No buts.” Ginny poured her a flute of champagne. Hermione eyed it warily. “Can’t I just wait till we get back to my flat?”  
“No.”  
“Fine,” Hermione huffed. “One drink and you’ll leave me alone?”  
“Probably not,” Ginny replied.  
“I’m really not comfortable with this,” Hermione said, grazing the flute’s stem with her fingertips.  
“Yeah, tonight I don’t care,” Ginny smirked. “I want you to loosen up and have some fun with us. All of us are doing it.”  
Hermione felt like she was in some bad after school TV special. “Peer pressure? Really? I don’t have to drink to have fun and be cool, you know.”  
Ginny was not deterred. “Apparently you do, because you’re not being very fun right now.”  
“Bitch.”  
“Bride,” Ginny corrected, sticking out her tongue.  
“Very mature,” Hermione said. She picked up her flute, tapped it lightly to Ginny’s in a toast, and downed the whole thing in one long gulp.  
“Now it’s a party!” Ginny cried. “Oh, waiter! Do you have any vodka?”  
“Ginny, since when do you know about vodka?” Hermione asked quietly so that the shirtless waiter wouldn’t hear and start asking uncomfortable questions. “I’ve been researching what Muggles do for fun, duh,” Ginny whispered.  
An hour later, and Hermione was feeling very tipsy indeed. She was also wearing a tiara, Ginny’s tiara in fact. In keeping with the Muggle hen night theme, Ginny had insisted that she wear a sash and tiara to let everyone know that she was a bachelorette for the night. Hermione was just grateful that the tiara wasn’t made up of little penises like some of the ones she had seen.  
She had yet to leave the comfort of the booth, but Ginny had rounded up the ladies to come back for a couple of rounds of vodka shots. Well, all except for Imogene, who seemed to have disappeared right after the fireman’s dance. Hermione should probably look in to that, but right now, she just couldn’t be arsed. Mixing champagne and vodka could do that to a girl.  
The way things were going, Hermione didn’t think the ladies would be willing to leave the strip club. So far, they had seen a policeman, the fireman, some kind of Army man, and even a jungle man. The gaggle of witches had gotten especially rowdy when a gorgeous blonde magician had performed, complete with flowing cape and magic wand, though not the wand that Ginny was still desperate to see. The bride to be had been overheard contemplating asking said magician for one of those private dances she’d heard about, all in the hopes of seeing at least one truly naked man tonight. Hermione shuddered to think about how many Galleons from Harry’s vault an exposed penis would cost.  
Ginny plopped down beside her in a huff. “Well, turns out it’s only, like, forty pounds for a private dance. That’s not too much, is it?”  
“Um, that sounds a little pricey,” Hermione said. “I guess it depends on what your paying for.”  
“Not his… thingy,” Ginny pouted. “This isn’t ‘that kind of establishment’. All he does is sit on my lap and wiggle. What’s the point of that?”  
Hermione giggled. “I’m sure he does more than wiggles, Gin, or else private dances wouldn’t be so popular. The real question is why are you so desperate to see another man’s penis? You have a penis in your life. You’re marrying that penis in a week.”  
“Ugh, don’t remind me!” Ginny groaned. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Harry. And I love his… thingy-“  
“Say it.”  
“No. I can’t!”  
“Please, you grew up with six brothers,” Hermione scoffed. “Surely you’ve been around enough penises in your life to say the word, so say it!”  
“But that’s the thing, Hermione,” Ginny exclaimed. “Harry’s is the only one I’ve ever seen! And now his will be the only one I ever see for the rest of my life!”  
“Really?” Hermione asked. “Wow. I thought with as much as you dated before Harry…”  
“Nope. Just Harry.”  
“Not even Dean? I mean, you guys were so hot and heavy, when you weren’t fighting, that is. I would have thought you’d at least sucked him off in a deserted broom closet once or twice.”  
“Not even once,” Ginny said morosely. “And not for his lack of trying either.”  
“Huh. Well, wow. Who knew?”  
“Yep.” Ginny took a long pull of her champagne.  
“But if you’re happy with Harry’s…. yeah, no, even I can’t say it when it pertains to Harry.”  
“Yes, yes, I’m very happy with Harry’s,” Ginny said. “But how do I know if I’m really happy with Harry’s… equipment? What if there’s much better equipment out there, and I just don’t know it? And now I’ll never know it?”  
“So, you’re saying you want to cheat on Harry?” Hermione was incredulous. “I can’t be hearing this.” Ginny scowled. “No, I couldn’t do that to Harry!”  
“Then what are you saying?” Hermione asked.  
“Argh, I don’t even know!” Ginny flopped her head down to the table, then suddenly shot up, her hands in the air, and screamed, “I just want to see a penis!”  
Her declaration had carried across the entire club. The dancers were in between sets, and the music thumping through the speakers was a much lower volume than when the men were performing onstage. There was a brief pause before every woman in the club began screaming in agreement.  
“Yes!”  
“Penis! Penis! Penis!”  
“Get it, girl!”  
“Oh my Merlin,” Ginny moaned, sinking back to the booth. “Hide me.”  
At that moment, the lights in the club went dark. Then, a spotlight from above the stage kicked on and swung over to their booth.  
“Oh no,” Ginny whispered. “Am I in trouble? They’re not going to kick us out are they?”  
“Doubtful,” Hermione said, though this was all new to her. Would they kick out a bunch of paying customers for starting a penis chant?  
“Ohhh, ladiiiiiies…..” A silky male voice drawled out from somewhere hidden in the shadows. “I hear there’s a hen night in the house….”  
“Shit!” Ginny squeaked.  
“We looooove bachelorettes here,” the voice called out again. “In fact, we have something special worked up just… for… you….”  
“Is this supposed to be sexy?” Hermione whispered to Ginny. “Honestly, it’s more intimidating than sexy. I, for one, am not a fan.”  
“Where are you, my little bride to be?” the voice said. “Uh-uh, no way,” Ginny said frantically. “Hermione, I was kidding. I am very happy with Harry’s penis, and I do not need to see another, I promise.”  
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”  
“Oh, what the hell.” Hermione stood up, threw back a shot of vodka, and turned to Ginny. “Give me your sash. I’m your maid of honor. I’ll take one for the team.” Ginny went bug-eyed as she quickly handed Hermione her sash. “Are you serious?”  
Hermione just shrugged. “Sure. I mean, really. How bad can it be?”  
And that’s what she was still asking herself moments later as she stood on the stage with her tiara and sash as the lights on the stage went dark.


	3. Hermione's Dance With Death

Hermione Granger was drunk, yet still questioning her sanity. What had provoked her to do this? This was completely unlike her. Was there still time to switch out with Ginny? She couldn’t see the booths. The whole club was dark, with only the dim glow of the exit signs lighting the way. It seemed like an omen to Hermione. She took a cautious step towards what she thought was the edge of the stage. Then, without warning, the spotlight flared to life once more illuminating her for everyone to see. 

“Sit.”

The voice commanded her from nowhere, and Hermione gulped. Her war instincts were kicking in to high gear. What if this was some illusion meant to trap her and her friends? She’d be responsible for leading them all to their deaths, all because she allowed them to go wandless! 

"I said SIT!” The voice commanded again, and Hermione whirled around. She hadn’t even realized a chair had been placed on the stage. Should she play along or stand and fight? The crowd was getting restless. Hermione shook her head. 

“So, you want to do this the hard way?” 

Hermione shivered. Something about this man’s voice raised every hackle, yet also made her flush with desire at the way he emphasized the word “hard”. Again, she questioned her sanity, and the man for thinking this could be anything but slightly terrifying. Her hands flew to her ears as an animalistic roar filled the club. The ladies around her screamed in ecstasy. Had they seen this before? She supposed it was possible. 

“Alright, little miss bride to be, you asked for it.” 

Another spotlight was now shining at the back of the stage, and the silhouette of a man appeared flexing behind the shimmery white curtain that hung there. Hermione felt a rush flow through her, and hurried to sit in the chair as the music started. 

“Really?” she laughed to herself. “Def Leppard is so cliché.”

As the strains of “Animal” filled the air, the crowd went wild. The curtain along the back of the stage was ripped open, and out walked, no, strutted a man in tight black leather pants and matching vest. Hermione couldn’t stop the gasp that burst from her lips. 

When she’d recognized the song, she had anticipated for Tarzan to come out, and start slinging her around. Instead, the man stalking her across the stage with lithe movements was none other than the blonde wizard- magician, she corrected herself- from earlier. Every move he made was somehow a predatory dance her way. He’d stop occasionally to do a spin or body roll towards the crowd, yet his focus never left her. She was mesmerized entirely by his movements as he made his way ever closer, and was sure the seat was damp by the time he reached her. 

He hovered over her grinning as he rolled his hips around. His hair was closely-cropped blonde that shone white in the lights. His smile was dazzling. He picked up Hermione's hands, running them over his rock-hard stomach as he gyrated. He felt so familiar. 

“Draco?” she whispered as she met his silvery gaze.

But, wait. His eyes were the wrong color. Instead of molten silver, she found warm brown eyes, and found herself disappointed. This was too weird. She wanted to run back to the table immediately. 

He turned his back to her, waving his backside slowly in front of her face, and Hermione felt glad for the distraction. She suddenly worried of her friends also found the similarities between the stripper and Draco Malfoy, the old prince of Slytherin house who had tormented Hermione and her friends all those years ago. If they did, would they also recognize the lust that she was sure she had etched on her face? Would they judge her for it? 

He faced her again, this time hiking a leg up on to her chair, thrusting his pelvis in her face while slowly removing his vest which he then tossed to the crowd. He ran her hands up his thighs. Hermione was salivating. Surely, a little fantasizing won’t hurt? She imagined silver eyes and a devilish grin as the stripper straddled her lap, grinding himself against her. 

“Too bad you’re getting married,” he said, leaning forward to whisper loudly in her ear. “You’re very cute.”

His breath tickled the hair around her ear, causing goose flesh to burst out all over. “I’m not.”

He stood up, rolling his body again with his back to her, shooting a smile and a wink over his shoulder at her. Hermione was panting now. 

“You’re not what? Cute? You are if I say you are.” 

He spun away from her again, teasing her and the crowd at the same time. He gave her another wink, then ripped at his butt, turning his pants to assless chaps. Hermione squealed right along with the audience. The song hit a pause, then came back in with a chanting voice as the stripper hit his knees and slid across the stage to Hermione. 

“No!” she cried when he was back in earshot. “I’m not getting married! My friend is! I’m just the maid of honor!”

“You don’t say?” 

With that smirk on his face, it was so much easier to pretend he was Malfoy. Hermione gazed down at him through heavily-lidded eyes. He crawled his way up her body, and hitched his arms under her thighs. His face came only a breath away from hers. Was he going to kiss her? 

Panic set in, and she scrambled to get away just as he hoisted her up in the air by her legs. Hermione tumbled right off of the stage, and her world went black.

“Hermione?” Ginny’s voice sounded so distant. 

“Hermione, oh Merlin, can you hear me?”

“What do we do?” Hermione recognized Ashton’s voice, another of Ginny’s old roommates. She too, sounded far so far away.

“How should I know?” A man’s voice, somewhat familiar, but definitely closer than the others. “I’m a stripper not a doctor!”

Stripper? Oh. Right. The world started slowly swimming back into focus. She was laying on her back in a strip club. She looked up at the overhead lights. Thank Merlin they weren’t too bright. Wait. Merlin. Ginny had said “Merlin” in front of a bunch of Muggles. She’d need to do damage control. Hermione tried to sit up. 

“No, Hermione, just lay still!” That was one of the Carrow twins, though she couldn’t tell which even this close up. 

“We need to make sure you aren’t injured,” the other twin said.

“No, I’m fine, really,” Hermione argued. “Just help me up.”

“Are you sure?” Luna asked. “The wrackspurts-“

"Luna, no!” Hermione scolded before Luna could spout more of her nonsense. “Honestly, I’m fine.”

The stripper was eyeing Luna warily. Ginny knelt down, hooking her arms to Hermione’s to help her stand. The slightest movement of her legs, however, told Hermione that something was wrong.

“Agh!” she cried. “Oh no, my leg!” 

It was hard to tell with her boots on, but she didn’t see her leg poking out in any weird angles. Hermione reached down, then immediately pulled back at the sharp pains radiating from her ankle where she’d touched it. The group of witches all clustered around her, effectively shutting the crowd out. 

“I knew we shouldn’t have left our… you know whats behind,” Romilda moaned. “It was just begging for disaster to happen!”

“I’m sure it’s just a sprain,” Hermione assured them. “If we can just get me home-“

“Without our- things?” Ginny asked. “That’ll take ages with you injured. We should take you to St. Mungo’s. It’s not far at all from here. A couple of blocks at most.”

Hermione shook her head vehemently. “No, no, I don’t need a heal- doctor. Just take me home.”

“Can we even get her in to St. Mungo's without our- things?” Ashton asked.

“Sure, no problem,” one of the twins piped up.

“Our mom’s on the board,” the other added. “We can get in easily.”

“You guys, honestly, I’m fine!” Hermione protested.

“It’s settled,” Ginny said. “Ladies, help me out. Luna, you take this arm, Romilda you take the other. Start easing her up and head for the door. I’ll settle the bill and meet you outside.”

Despite Hermione's protestations, the girls managed to get her up, and out to the pavement where they rested a moment till Ginny caught up with them. Imogene had finally emerged from her hiding place, and was trailing behind her carrying all of their purses.

“Okay, Carrows, lead the way,” Ginny called out, and the troop of witches slowly made their way through three blocks of London till they found themselves standing outside of a rundown looking department store with chipped mannequins in tacky outfits in the window. Hermione rested her leg by leaning against the storefront’s window while the twins spoke in hushed tones to the mannequin in front. 

“Hermione Granger has an injured leg,” they said. “We’re wandless, and she needs a Healer.”

Before Hermione could prep herself, the mannequin winked and crooked her finger, and Hermione found herself falling through the glass. Romilda and Luna crashed down on top of her.

“Really?” Hermione cried out in frustration to no one in particular. 

Romilda, Luna, and Ginny all helped her up from the floor, as the Carrows went to speak to the medi-Witch at the information desk. Imogene and Ashton had just found several chairs all together in the midst of the busy waiting room, when the twins came back to get them. Slowly and gently, they maneuvered Hermione down three corridors till they came to a door.

“Only one of you may go in with her,” one of the twins said. Hermione thought it was Flora now that her head had cleared up some more. 

“That’ll be me,” Ginny spoke up, taking Hermione’s weight onto herself.

“The rest of us will be in the waiting area,” Fauna said.

“But we just came from there!” Imogene whined. 

“Oh, hush,” Ashton said as they turned the corner. 

Ginny led Hermione into the little triage examination room. Hermione eyed the paper-covered table in speculation.

“That’s not happening,” she said.

“Come on, it won’t be so bad,” Ginny said. “I’ve got you.”

Hermione just rolled her eyes, and allowed Ginny to help her up onto the table. At least Ginny didn’t make any comments when Hermione's dress bunched up too high and gave Ginny a nice peek of her thong. Instead, Ginny just pulled the dress back down without even blushing.

“Oh, Hermione, you don’t know how sorry I am!” she moaned.

“Gin, stop,” Hermione said. “This isn’t your fault at all.”

“Yes, it is.” A tear rolled prettily down Ginny’s cheek. “You wouldn’t have even been up on that stage if it weren’t for me!”

“Ginny-“

Hermione was cut off as another medi-Witch entered the room. She took Hermione’s vitals quickly then turned to leave. Hermione was just about to recommence her conversation with Ginny when the medi-witch spoke up; her words turning Hermione’s blood to ice in her veins.

“Ms Granger, Healer Malfoy will be right in to see you.”


	4. Paging Doctor Draco

“Well, that’s it,” Hermione announced. “Be a dear, and help me down please.”  
“What? Why?” Ginny asked. “You haven’t even been seen yet.”  
“And I’m not going to be,” Hermione said, trying to figure out the best way to jump down without injuring her leg further.  
Ginny rolled her eyes. “It’s because your healer is Malfoy, isn’t it? Hermione it’s not that big of a deal, you know.”  
“You’re right,” Hermione said, scooting herself closer to edge of the table. “It might not be too bad. Who knows? Maybe it’s Narcissa Malfoy, or some random Malfoy cousin, but why press my luck? Now, please, help me down before he comes in.”  
“No.”  
“Pardon?” Hermione said. “You can’t just tell me no.”  
“I can and I did,” Ginny said. “Seriously, Hermione, everyone already knows that Malfoy is one of the best healers here at Saint Mungo’s. Let him take a look at your leg. I’ll get you ice cream or something afterwards.”  
Hermione gaped at Ginny.  
“What?” Ginny asked.  
“You said nice things about Malfoy,” Hermione said.  
“Oh, close your mouth or the nargles will get in,” she huffed.  
“You’re hanging out with Luna way too much,” Hermione joked. “But wait, how did you know about him?”  
“Remember when I fell off of my broom during practice last season?” Ginny asked, and Hermione nodded. “Malfoy was the one who fixed me up. Did a great job too, and did you know he’s funny? Like, really and truly funny, though Harry was not impressed.”  
“Huh,” Hermione said. “You never told me that he was your healer.”  
Before Ginny could respond further, the door opened once more, and in walked the man himself, Draco Malfoy.  
Hermione wished that she could blame the instant flood of dampness that she felt at his entrance on the alcohol, but, sadly her wantoness was solely to blame on Malfoy. Only the Slytherin Prince could wear a hideous lime green Healer robe and still manage to look like a damned model straight off a Paris runway. How could she have compared that blonde stripper to Malfoy? The original was worth ten of him, pointy chin and all.  
“Alright, what do we- Granger?”  
“Hi,” she said with a sheepish wave.  
His eyes had widened in surprise at seeing her on the patient table, before ticking downwards to take in the full picture. She couldn’t deny the obvious pleasure she felt when his eyes lingered a tad too long on the thigh high boots and high hemline.  
“Those certainly are an interesting choice for footwear,” Malfoy said in an attempt to explain his roving eyes. “Is that what they call shoes out in the Muggle world these days?”  
“How did you know we were out in the Muggle world?” Ginny asked.  
“No self-respecting witch would be caught dead in that kind of attire,” he said. He flicked his wand at a stool and planted himself right in front of Hermione. “So, tell me what happened.”  
Hermione hummed nervously. Malfoy was eye-level with her crotch. Could he see up her skirt? Did she want him to? Should she try to pull a quick Sharon Stone styled flash? Wait, did he ask a question?  
“It’s my hen night,” Ginny explained. Hermione let out a little exhale, trying to concentrate on a point just above Malfoy’s perfectly messy platinum locks. “And, yes, we went out in the Muggle world. Even left our wands at Hermione's flat for authenticity!”  
Malfoy cocked an eyebrow up at Hermione, fully capturing her attention. She just shrugged, and went back to his hair.  
“The stripper picked up Hermione,” Ginny continued rambling. “And I’m not sure what happened, but next thing we knew, Hermione had kind of somersaulted right off of the stage!”  
Hermione couldn’t quite read the look on Malfoy’s face, and she swallowed hard. “Dancing with strippers?” he asked quietly. “Who would have thought?”  
“When in Rome, and all that,” she said feebly. Why did he make her so nervous?  
“Oh, it was actually pretty funny!” Ginny laughed, completely oblivious to the tension between Malfoy and Hermione. “Well, I mean once we made sure that she wasn’t really injured, you know.”  
“If you’re not injured, why are you here?” Malfoy asked.  
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Ginny cut her off. “Oh, it’s her leg. She can’t walk on it, and none of us had our wands, and we weren’t far from here.”  
“I didn’t want to come,” Hermione said, finally sounding more like herself. “I’m sure it’s just a sprain. I can fix it easily once I get my wand.”  
Malfoy chuckled. “Now that sounds more like you. I’m going to have to take off these… what are these, boots? Well, whatever they are, they need to come off, so that I can get a good look at your legs.”  
Hermione reached for the zipper, but Malfoy’s fingers beat her to it. As theirs fingers touched, Hermione jerked her hand back as though she’d been burned. Malfoy met her eyes, and flashed her a smirk as he lowered the zipper on her boot at a torturously slow rate. Was it her imagination, or had he lightly caressed her calf as he stripped the boot off? Once again, his smile was all too knowing, and Hermione began counting the ceiling tiles to get her heart rate under control.  
“Does it hurt when I do this?” he asked, picking up her ankle and squeezing it lightly. Hermione winced and nodded, simultaneously praying to anyone who would listen that her feet would smell like roses. Ginny, bless her drunk soul, was prattling on about wedding plans as Malfoy kept prodding Hermione's ankle.  
“And then my mom said that we just have to use Gabrielle in the wedding somehow since she’s family, but she’s not really family to me, if you know what I mean. And….”  
“What about when I do this?” he asked moving higher up her calf.  
Hermione winced again. “Surely you could just use your wand for all of this instead?”  
“Oh, I could,” Malfoy grinned. “It’s just more fun this way.”  
“You’re such an arse,” she groaned as he poked her ankle a little harder.  
“I’ll have you know that I have received many compliments on my arse,” he said.  
“That’s not what I said at all,” Hermione corrected.  
“It wasn’t?” Hermione shook her head.  
“Sorry, my mum always said I have selective hearing,” he said, dropping her ankle a little too roughly. “Is the other one injured as well?”  
“No,” Hermione told him. “Just the one.”  
“I’d like to have a look at it just in case,” Malfoy said.  
Despite Hermione’s argument that her other leg was fine, Malfoy was once again removing her other boot in a way that hardly seemed professional to Hermione. Not that she was complaining. The man knew what he was doing. This time, she knew without a shadow of doubt that he massaged her calf as the boot came off. The cold stare she gave him was a direct contradiction to the fire that had come to life in the pit of her stomach.  
“So, how has life been for the Golden Gryffindor Girl since Hogwarts?” he asked. She met his gaze, and had to stifle a gasp. His eyes were burning just as hotly as her body as he ran his fingertips up the outside of her calf.  
“Umm,” she moaned softly. “I’ve… uhh, I’ve been good. Great. Life is great.”  
“Are you seeing anyone? Or are you all work and no play?”  
Hermione could not tear her gaze away from his as he ran the pad of his thumbs across the bottom of her foot. He was flirting with her, and very obviously flirting at that. Nervously, she looked in Ginny’s direction, but the redhead had moved over to eye a potions cabinet on the other side of the room. Hermione looked back to Draco who was waiting for an answer while patiently rubbing her foot. She shook her head at him, then glanced back to Ginny, hoping he’d pick up on her cue that this was not something she wanted to do with Ginny in the room. He must have, because he rolled his eyes and let go of her foot. Hermione let out a small relieved sigh.  
“Thank you,” she mouthed to him.  
“Whatever,” he mumbled back. “I think I’m done with the examination Ms Granger,” he said in a much louder tone. Hermione glared at his sudden formalness. Just because she wasn’t comfortable being flirted with around Ginny didn’t mean he had to get all stodgy.  
“So, what’s the verdict, doc?” Ginny asked, bouncing back over to the table as Malfoy stood and straightened his robes. “Will our little ‘Mione ever walk again?”  
Malfoy shot a confused glance at Hermione. “’Mione?” he asked.  
Hermione just shook her head. “Don’t ask. Ginny, we’ve been over the nickname thing.”  
“Right,” Ginny nodded. “So, is it broken?”  
Malfoy shook his head. “No, Granger was right. It’s just a sprain. I’ll have you fixed up in just a few shakes of my wand.” He winked at Hermione, and she blushed. Really? She scolded herself. I should not be turned on by a stupid and poorly delivered innuendo.  
Malfoy raised her ankle up again. He circled his wand around it three times, then tapped it once on each side. A faint golden glow covered her ankle before seeping into the skin. Hermione felt the muscles heat up as the golden light pulsed then disappeared altogether.  
“Test it out,” Malfoy said.  
He reached for her, lifting her up off of the table with no effort whatsoever, and placing her gently on the floor. His hands stayed on her waist for three heartbeats. (Yes, she counted.) He and Ginny watched as she paced back and forth across the room twice per Malfoy’s instructions. After completing the second lap around the exam room, Hermione made her way back to the patient table, picking up her boots from the floor before she hopped back up.  
“Allow me,” Malfoy said.  
Ginny’s eyebrows shot up, but Hermione just shrugged. As Malfoy resumed his slow foreplay dance with Hermione's boots, this time in reverse, a sly grin spread across Ginny’s face and Hermione cringed. This was not the time for Ginny to sober up and become aware of the sexual tension bubbling up between her and Malfoy.  
“Say, Malfoy….” Ginny began.  
“Ginny, did your mom ever agree on your napkin choice?” Hermione squeaked out. Thankfully, Ginny took the bait, and Hermione praised Merlin and the inventors of vodka as Ginny resumed her ranting about Molly Weasley’s over involvement in the wedding plans just as Draco’s fingers found Hermione's thigh. They were gone though before she could swat him away.  
“That is not professional behavior at all, Healer Malfoy,” she scolded him in a harsh whisper.  
The prat had the nerve to give her a very cheeky grin indeed. “Sorry.”  
“You don’t sound the least bit apologetic,” she huffed.  
“You’re right, I’m not,” he said, smirking still. “You doing anything later?”  
Hermione’s eyes just about bulged out of her head. “Umm, yes, we still have to do the gifts back at my flat.” She pushed his hands away, and hopped down from the table. “Thank you for fixing my ankle,” she said loudly enough to break off Ginny’s ramblings. She offered Malfoy her hand, and he took it, caressing her palm with his thumb as he gave it a firm shake. Desperate now, she hustled Ginny out of the room, all but slamming the door behind her as Malfoy laughed.  
“Was Draco Malfoy flirting with you?” Ginny asked agog.  
“What? No, that’s preposterous!” Hermione said, looking around the corridor.  
“Oh my goodness, he was!” Ginny screamed.  
“He was not!” Hermione said.  
Ginny eyed her skeptically then grinned. “Do you want me to go ask him?”  
Hermione groaned. “Ginny, I’m begging you to forget that this conversation took place. Nobody was flirting.” She looked down at her empty hands. “Oh bugger. I left my purse in there.”  
“I thought you left it with the others –“ Ginny said, but Hermione was already back in the exam room, leaning hard against the door to keep Ginny out. Draco flicked his eyes up from his paperwork, cocking his eyebrow up at her sudden reentry.  
“Did you forget something?” he asked.  
Hermione let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and beamed at him. “Do you think she bought it?”


	5. Secrets And Lies

“Well? Do you?” Hermione asked again. Draco just rolled his eyes, and returned his attention back to his paperwork as Hermione blathered on.

“I’m not going to lie, I thought we were busted for sure,” she said. “And you certainly weren’t helping Dr. Grabby Hands!”  
Draco scowled. “You deserve everything you got.”  
“Oh really?” Hermione asked, hands on her hips. “How so?”  
“It was your punishment,” he answered, finally putting down the papers in his hands.  
“Punishment?” she scoffed. “And just what, pray tell, am I being punished for?”  
Draco slowly began making his way to where Hermione stood, and once again she was reminded of how far superior this man was to that stripper. That man could take lessons on predatory advancement from Draco Malfoy.  
“Shall I make you a list?” He cocked up his eyebrow. “One,” he lifted one finger, “you promised me just this very morning that you would be careful.”  
“I was careful!”  
“Two,” another finger went up, “you also promised you’d keep your wits about you –“  
Hermione glared. “Just how did I break that promise?”  
“Please,” he sneered. “I could smell the alcohol on you as soon as I walked in the room.”  
“That could have been from Ginny,” she said weakly.  
“Three,” another finger joined the first two, “what kind of witch goes out without her wand? And don’t think I didn’t notice that you never let me in on that bit of information, which, in my opinion, also breaks the first two points!”  
“I know, I know,” Hermione groaned. “I’m sorry, okay? Ginny tacked that on at the last minute.”  
“Four!” He roared, raising yet another finger.  
“What else could there be?” Hermione sighed. “I’ve already apologized!”  
“You danced onstage with a naked man,” Draco growled.  
Hermione held out her hands in defense. “First of all, he wasn’t naked.”  
“Hermione….” he said warningly.  
“Second of all,” she plowed on. “I did not dance. I sat in a chair, and he danced around me.”  
“It’s unforgivable,” Draco said. “And lastly –“  
“How is there more?” She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.  
“You showed up in my hospital, injured, and expected me to hide my worry that my girlfriend is hurt because you still haven’t the balls to tell your friends that we’re dating!”  
He stood right in front of her now, glowering down. Hermione could see his chest moving rapidly. He really was pretty worked up over all of this. She scolded herself to stop being so turned on by his angry presence, and focus more on soothing his hurt feelings.  
“I really worried you, huh?” she asked him softly. “Come here.” She held her arms open to bring him in for a hug.  
Draco shook his head. “No, I’m still too mad. You can’t just hug it away, Hermione.”  
“What do you want me to do? I know I screwed up, and I’ve said I’m sorry.”  
“Honestly?” he said. “How about you open the door because I know She-Weasel is probably just on the other side, and tell her about me.”  
“You know I can’t do that, Draco,” Hermione protested. “They wouldn’t understand that you’re –“  
“That I’m what, Hermione?” he asked impatiently. “Your lover? Your partner? Your” - He let out an exaggerated gasp – “Merlin forbid, boyfriend?”  
“Oh, hush,” she told him. “You’re so dramatic.”  
“Hermione.” Draco took her in his arms now that his anger had dissipated. “It’s been six months.”  
“Eight,” she corrected.  
“No, eight months since we started sleeping together,” he said. “Six since it became serious. Remember? It was that one night you told me you loved me –“  
“Only after you said it first,” Hermione interrupted.  
“Whatever you have to tell yourself, babe.”  
She pulled back slightly, eyeing him skeptically. “Do your friends know about us?”  
“Of course they do!” Draco scoffed.  
“Really?” Hermione was surprised by that. “Wait. All of them know?”  
Draco rolled his eyes at her. “Theo and Pansy were told as soon as we got serious. I told the rest not long after that. It’s not that big of a deal, Hermione.”  
Hermione pursed her lips, thinking over this bit of information. “And they all approve?”  
“Well, Blaise did sit funny for a few days after I sent a stinging hex to his bollocks for calling you that favored racial slur –“  
“That you used to call me a few times yourself.”  
“I was twelve,” he said with a withering look. “Face it. Most of us have grown up enough to put the past behind us. I’ll bet your friends won’t bat an eye about us.”  
“I’ll think about it,” Hermione said after a pause. She still wasn’t convinced however. She could definitely see Ron at least batting an eye. He’d probably have an apoplectic fit over the news. “Oh, by the way, Ginny said nice things about you earlier.”  
“Did she now?”  
Hermione nodded. “Yes, said you’re one of the best healers here. You never told me you treated her.”  
“I treat a lot of people,” Draco said with a shrug. “It wouldn’t be right to tell you who though. Doctor patient confidentiality and all that.”  
“Oh yeah, I didn’t think of that,” Hermione said. “Still, she never told me either.”  
“Well, I can’t quite speak for her actions.” Draco looked over her shoulder towards the door. “Now, as much as I’d love to keep you longer, maybe bend you over that table because despite what I said earlier, I really do fancy those boots on you, and I’m a little offended that I’ve never seen them before –“  
“Draco!” She elbowed him playfully.  
“Same with that dress,” he continued. “Really, Granger, did you buy new sexy clothes to show off for those strippers, or have these been hiding in your closet all this time?”  
“Draco, get on with it.”  
“Well, you need to know I’m hurt,” he smirked. “In fact, I think you need to come to my place the moment I get off shift just so I can have my way with you wearing only those boots.”  
“Not sure they’d fit you,” Hermione laughed. “I mean, we can try at least.”  
Draco grinned, leaning down to nibble on her ear. “Saucy minx.”  
Hermione practically purred. “I can’t come over tonight though.”  
“Oh, but I insist,” Draco murmured, leaving a trail of kisses on her jaw.  
“No, I really can’t.” She pushed him away slightly. “Everyone is staying at my flat tonight, remember? I can’t just sneak out to go meet you.”  
Draco’s hand began snaking up her inner thigh, and toying with the hem on her dress. “Figure it out,” he said. “After all, I’m still very upset. I may have to dole out a little more… punishment.” On the word ‘punishment’, Draco crooked one long finger up Hermione’s slit, feeling the dampness through her underwear. Her legs went weak, and she leaned into him for support as he continued to toy with her. Right as she opened her legs to welcome him in, he pulled his hand away, licking his finger to savor her taste.  
“Okay, okay,” Hermione gasped. “I’ll figure something out.”  
“Please do,” he smirked. “Now, go, get out of here.” Draco gave her a light snack on her bottom that nearly sent her over the edge after the stimulation she’d recently had. “I do have other patients, Ms. Granger, and I’ll wager that Weaslette is growing anxious about why you’re taking so long.”  
“Just one kiss goodbye?” Hermione batted her eyelashes at him.  
“You are incorrigible when you’re drunk,” he sighed, but answered her demand with a quick kiss.  
“I love you,” she said.  
“I know,” he joked. “I love you too. Oh, and Granger, one last thing.” He walked over to the potions cabinet and retrieved two phials. “Here. I don’t like the fumes coming off of you, and give one to Weasley as well.”  
He tossed her the phials, and she laughed as she recognized the Sober Up potion. “See you soon,” she said, and he waved her out of the room. Once out in the corridor again, she found Ginny leaning against the opposite wall looking quite bored. Hermione instantly felt guilty for taking so long with Draco, and also questioning if Ginny had been able to hear anything. Ginny perked up as she saw Hermione approach.  
“Did you get it?” Ginny asked.  
“Get what?”  
“Your purse,” Ginny reminded her.  
“Oh, it wasn’t in there,” Hermione said. “You were right. I must have left it with the others.”  
“Oh, okay.” The two ladies set off back to the waiting area. “Did you at least ask him out? Or find out if he has a girlfriend? I mean, you were in there for an awfully long time.”  
Hermione chewed her bottom lip nervously. “Listen, Gin.” Hermione stopped. Ginny was looking at her expectantly. Was this really the right time to tell her, standing in a hospital corridor, while they were both a little drunk? “Um, about Malfoy… he has a girlfriend. Sorry.”  
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Ginny said.  
“He did give me these though,” Hermione said, holding up the potion phials. Ginny took hers from Hermione and laughed.  
“I’ll take it when we get back to your flat,” she said. “Ooh, maybe I should have invited him to the wedding! You know, as a thank you!”  
Hermione chuckled. “I’m sure he would have liked that.”  
Ginny stopped suddenly. “It’s not too late! I could go invite him now!”  
“He said he had another patient to go see,” Hermione said, steering Ginny back to the way they needed to go. “You can send him an owl in the morning if you still want to invite him.”  
“You’re right,” Ginny nodded. “Say, did he tell you who his girlfriend is?”  
“You know, I didn’t ask her name, sorry.”  
“That’s okay,” Ginny said. “Maybe he’ll bring her to the wedding! It’d be interesting to see who snagged Draco Malfoy. I mean, I haven’t even seen him linked with anyone in the papers in at least a year or so.”  
Hermione winced as Ginny prattled on. She’d have to tell them all soon. She just prayed that they’d all take the news okay.


	6. How Did We Get Here?

Hermione looked at the alarm clock on her nightstand with a groan. It was closing in on two in the morning, and Ginny still wouldn't shut up. The gifts had all been opened, and Hermione was settled down in her bed waiting for Ginny to fall asleep. Most of the others had started snoring from their various places around her flat long ago. She needed a plan to get out. Draco was waiting.

She knew she should be mad that he wanted her to come by tonight when he knew that her place was packed to the gills with Ginny and her friends, and under other circumstances she probably would be. Tonight had shaken something in her though. One didn’t fall off a stage at a strip club everyday, you know. If this had happened any other time, she would have had her wand first of all. She would have healed her ankle herself, then either gone to Draco’s or had him come over. He would have made sure she’d healed it properly while she reminded him that she’s completely competent, then let him rub her feet, and maybe let him put an ice pack on her leg, just to be safe. As odd as it may sound, Hermione Granger had come to rely on Draco Malfoy. She never would have believed it a year ago, but everything had changed the day she’d seen him again after so many years.

Hermione liked to take walks around her neighborhood on Saturday mornings, traveling up and down the various streets, seeing what was new in the different shop windows. That fateful morning, however, she had traversed a few streets further than her normal route, and was just trying to figure out the best way to get back, when she saw him.

He’d been seated at a table on the sidewalk outside of a cafe, sunglasses on, remnants of a full English on the plate in front of him. Hermione was already checking him out, trying to see if he was wearing a wedding ring, when he turned the page of his Financial Times, and she caught the faded Dark Mark on his left forearm.

“Malfoy?” she had exclaimed, covering her mouth quickly and cringing over her loud gaffe. He looked up and around for whomever had called his name, and spotted her almost immediately.

“Granger?” he’d asked, lowering his sunglasses to get a better look. She gave him an embarrassed wave, and he motioned to the other chair at his table. “Care to sit?”

“Oh no, thank you, I'm just on my way home, sorry,” she’d rambled, and left, trying to put Malfoy out of her mind. That is, until the next Saturday when she found herself strolling by the same cafe again. There he was, once again reading the FT, and sipping coffee, his breakfast already finished.

“Fancy seeing you again,” she’d said.

He’d looked up in minor annoyance. “Yes, especially since I always have breakfast here on Saturday mornings, and yet, I've never seen you in the area.”

Hermione had blushed. “I just started venturing over to this area on my walks. Is this your neighborhood?”

“Yes.” He motioned again to the other chair. “You can join if you like.”

“No, sorry, must be on my way. Ta!”

The next Saturday, she took a little more care with her appearance before setting out on her walk. She had a plan. She wasn’t going to stop him for conversation. She wanted to see if he would choose to engage her. He did.

“Careful, Granger,” he’d called out. “People may think you’re stalking me or something.” She’d smirked and kept walking.

The fourth Saturday is when things changed. As Hermione had approached the cafe, she noticed that Draco didn’t have his usual paper in front of him. He was leaning back in his chair, casually watching the direction she always came from.

“Ah, Granger, right on time.”

He motioned to a waiter positioned just inside of the door, who nodded at Draco then disappeared. Hermione sat down nervously, and there was silence. The waiter returned with two plates, each loaded down with beans, toast, eggs, sausage, and bacon.

“Do you prefer coffee or tea, ma’am?” the waiter asked.

“Um, coffee, please, thank you.” Hermione had looked to Draco as the waiter scurried off. “This was a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“Not at all,” Draco said. “I decided that you were never going to make a move, so I’ll do it for you.”

“What do you mean ‘make a move’?” Hermione scoffed. “What on earth has possessed you to think I want to do such a thing?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Please, Granger. It was obvious the first time you came by that you liked what you saw.”

She picked up her fork, and began stabbing at her food. “I may concede that I find you handsome. I like that you’ve gotten rid of the bowl cut. Short hair suits you. However, I still know you, Draco Malfoy, and I know that prettiness on the outside can’t hide ugliness on the inside.”

“And that’s why you’ve been pestering me for weeks? To see my ‘prettiness’ as you say?”

“I truly don’t know why I've been coming back,” she’d admitted. “If I'm pestering you so much though, as _you_ say, I won’t come by anymore.”

“Bloody Gryffindors,” he’d muttered, spooning beans onto his toast.

“Oh, what does my school house have to do with anything?” Hermione asked.

“You’re so damned obvious! No cunning whatsoever! You clearly fancy me, yet you won’t admit it.” He smirked at her over the rim of his coffee cup. “Just do it, Granger. Ask me out. Or even say you fancy a shag. Hell, just ask if I'm single.”

“I will not!” she’d protested.

“Fine.” He slammed down his fork. “I am single. My last relationship ended amicably four months ago due to my work schedule. I’m a healer at St. Mungo’s, and a damn good one at that. I even do charity work and fundraising for the hospital in my limited spare time. Lastly, I think you look gorgeous as well. Nice to see you’ve grown out your rat’s nest. If you want a date, or even a shag, I would say yes to either one. Your turn.”

Hermione had gaped at him for several beats before she spoke. “I am single as well. Ron and I broke up about a year ago, and I haven’t really dated since. I too devote a lot of time to my work at the Ministry, and he couldn't quite handle being second to my ambition.” She paused to take a sip of her coffee. “If you want to pay for breakfast, we’ll consider this our first date, and I’ll pick up the bill next time.”

He’d given her a genuine smile, and that had been that. Now here she was, eight months later, madly in love with a man that she couldn't tell her friends about. She’d come close a number of times, including earlier at the hospital, yet chickened out each time.

It wasn’t that she was ashamed of Draco. No. She knew him well enough by now to know how much he’d changed through the years. He could still be a prat, there was no denying it, but he also wasn’t the selfish, cowardly bully that he’d been growing up. The war truly had changed them all.

The reason she hadn’t told her friends was due to their reactions. Hermione had been known to hold a grudge or two in the past, but she didn’t hold a candle to Harry, Ron, or even Ginny. Though Ginny’s comments about Draco being a great healer had been promising, Hermione wondered how they’d all feel about him once they knew the extent of her dealings with him. Just because he was a great healer, didn’t mean he’d make a great boyfriend. Even if Draco took out a full page ad in the Prophet to apologize for all of his misdeeds, she was certain that Harry and Ron would consider it a meaningless publicity stunt.

Her biggest fear over it all? She was scared to death that her friends would demand she break up with Draco, to choose her friends over her love. She couldn't do that. She couldn't break Harry and Ron’s hearts that way.

Hermione realized then that Ginny had stopped talking. She listened closer. Yes, Ginny’s breathing had definitely changed to deeper, sleepy little puffs. It was time to move. She rolled ever so slowly off of the bed, and made her way to the bedroom door.

“‘Mione?” Ginny slurred. “Where are you going?”

 _Shit_. “I need a shower,” she answered. “I can’t sleep till I wash off the smells from this evening.”

“Okay,” Ginny said, then she let out a little snore.

Hermione tiptoed out to her hallway, took a quick peek to make sure that no one else was awake, then quickly ducked into her bathroom. She’d had enough forethought earlier to stash her dress and boots under the sink when she’d changed for bed. If Draco wanted her in the boots, she would wear the boots. She stripped off her pjs, and replaced them with her outfit from this evening. She touched up her makeup, and fluffed her hair. With a parting glance in the mirror, Hermione picked up her wand and spun into nothingness, appearing once more in a small courtyard over in Ladbroke Grove across from her boyfriend’s building. She hurried up the steps, and rang the buzzer.

It was time to knock Draco Malfoy’s socks off.

 


	7. A Spoonful Of Sugar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature content ahead. You've been warned.

Draco flung open his door with a relieved sigh. “Get in here. I’ve been so worried.”

Hermione barely had time to step one foot in the door before he’d pulled her into a bone crushing hug. “You’re awfully dressed up for this time of night,” she said, pulling away with a smirk at his suit and tie.

“I just got home not five minutes ago,” he answered. “I was afraid you’d already stopped by and left when I wasn’t here.”

“That’s what you’re so worried about?” she asked. “You should know that I would have left a note.”

“I was actually just checking for one,” he said.

“Yes, well, I'm sorry, but I had to wait forever for Ginny to fall asleep,” Hermione said. She walked over to his kitchen, and snagged a couple bottles of water from the fridge.

“How’s your leg feeling?” Draco asked as she joined him in the living room.

“Never better.” She plopped down on the couch, snuggling into his side. “I had the best damn healer at St. Mungo’s, you know.” She felt his rumbling laugh in his chest.

He flung an arm around her shoulders, and she cuddled in closer. “You know I worry.”

“Draco, there was no need,” she scolded.

“You fell off of a stage at a strip club,” he practically growled. “What were you even _doing_ up there?”

“It wasn’t even a big deal,” Hermione said. “They wanted the bride, Ginny freaked, so I stepped up. That’s what a maid of honor is for.”

“Hmmm, somehow I don’t recall ‘dancing with strippers’ in the maid of honor rulebook,” Draco mused. “Out of curiosity, however, what song did you dance to?”

“Draco, I already told you,” Hermione huffed. “ _I_ didn’t dance! _I_ sat in a chair, and _he_ danced around _me_!”

“Humor me, darling,” he purred in her ear. “Let me imagine your striptease. What song was it? Maybe I can play it, and you can give me a private performance.”

“You want me to strip for you?” Hermione couldn’t deny that the thought was very intriguing. “I’m not sure if you could afford me, and I highly doubt that you have Def Leppard in your music collection.”

“Oh, how quickly she forgets our ‘Love Bites’ duet in the shower,” he mocked. “Truly, you wound me. Now… how much for a dance, pretty lady?”

“I have a much more interesting idea,” she said as she sat up.

“Oh, you do? What could be more interesting than you getting naked for me?”

Hermione grinned. “ _You_ get naked for _me_.”

“No deal,” he said. “I mean, really, love, you say I can’t afford you? I’ve seen what you make -”

“What? How?”

“Not important.” He shook his head. “Regardless, you cannot afford me.”

“Okay, well, first of all, we’ll be revisiting you peeking at my finances another time,” she said. “Second of all, this will be purely for my entertainment.”

Draco wasn’t moved. “What, so you can laugh at me? I don’t think so.”

Hermione tried another route. “Did I mention that that stripper sort of looked like you?”

“Hermione…” he warned.

“He did! He wasn’t nearly as handsome or sexy though, like a cheap knockoff. I want you to show me how the real thing would do it.” Hermione sat back and watched as Draco carefully mulled over her words in his mind.

“No laughing?” he asked a moment later.

“I’ll do my best,” she said.

“Fine,” he said. “But if I do this, you’re going to owe me big time.”

“Baby, I'll make that weekend we spent in Sardinia pale in comparison,” Hermione said with a wink, then laughed when Draco’s eyes bugged out.

He jumped up from the couch, and rushed over to his stereo. Hermione was sure that he was going over dance moves in his head as he rifled through his CD collection. Finally, he found whatever one he was looking for, and carefully placed it in the player. Hermione burst into laughter as “Pour Some Sugar On Me” erupted from the speakers, and Draco quickly hit the Pause button.

“You said no laughing,” he pouted.

Hermione stifled her giggles. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t at you, love. It was the music.”

“Should I pick a different song?” he asked.

“No, no, it’s great!” she assured him. He hit play, restarting the song.

Draco placed himself in the middle of the living room floor standing with his back to her. He slowly began rolling his hips. His arms were clenched into fists at his sides, but as the drums kicked in, he thrust them into the air, and turned to face her.

Under normal circumstances, Hermione would have immediately dissolved into more laughter, but there was nothing normal or funny about the way Draco was walking towards her. His face was serious and seductive as he loosened his tie. With a quick spin, he tossed the tie into the air, letting it flutter to the floor. Then he began to work on his shirt. He rolled his hips with each button that came undone, and Hermione’s eyes were glued to his hands, wetting her lips when he rubbed his gyrating abs. He turned his back to her again while he removed his shirt, one shoulder first, then the other, complimented by a saucy wink before it joined the tie on the floor.

“You’re awfully good at this,” she teased.

“How do you think I paid my way through med school?” he quipped back with a nice hip thrust in her direction.

“Oh, yes, the poor little rich boy had to strip his way through college that he never attended?” Hermione laughed.

Draco grinned. “I know. That joke never gets old.” His smile faltered, and he paused. “Question. Since you’re the stripper expert, how does one take off their shoes in a sexy way?”

“One doesn’t,” she chuckled. “Just kick them off.”

He did as she said, then continued to dance. He spun around, grabbing his own ass, then executed a perfect body roll, dropping down to his knees. He crawled the few steps that it took to reach Hermione on the couch, then pulled himself up. He perched one leg beside her as he rolled his crotch near her face, then put his leg down to sit on her lap, grinding himself onto her. He stood facing her, toying with his belt buckle as he swiveled his hips.

“You want to do my trousers?” Draco asked.

“With pleasure,” she said eagerly.

Hermione’s eyes never left his as she took her time undoing his belt followed by the button and zipper. She hitched her fingers into the waistband of his pants, and tugged them down to his ankles, freeing his erection. Licking her lips, she gave his cock a few teasing strokes.

“You know, as the stripper expert, I should tell you that touching the dancers is highly frowned upon,” she joked.

“Oh, I'm willing to make an exception if you are,” he said.

“Good,” she said. “Because I don’t think that I can keep my hands to myself much longer.” And with that, she grasped his cock, and took him in her mouth.

Hermione bobbed her head up and down, giving him a few good long sucks, and rolled her tongue around the tip. She flattened her tongue and teased the little triangular patch just below the head. Draco groaned and fisted his hands in her hair.

“You’re so fucking amazing,” he panted.

In return for the compliment, Hermione slapped his bare arse, and he thrusted hard into her mouth allowing her to take him deeper.

“Up. Now.” Draco commanded, and she happily obliged, releasing his cock with a loud smack. Draco flipped her around to face the couch, and pushed her torso down. Hermione hiked the bottom of her dress up to her waist, and Draco ripped her thong down to her ankles.

“Ready?” he growled.

“Fuck, yes!” she nearly screamed.

Draco thrust his cock deep inside of her, and began pounding into her. One of his hands snaked around to rub at her clit, while the other grasped onto her breast for balance. Hermione clutched onto the cushions to keep herself from face-planting into the couch as she met his furious pace. Gods, she’d needed this ever since the blonde magician had teased her on that stage, then Draco teasing her further at the hospital. If she could have taken him there on that crinkly, paper-covered patient bed, she would have.

“I’m close,” she breathed out, focusing on the pressure of his fingers on her clit, and the weight of his sac slapping against her.

Hermione found her release with five more strokes, and soon after Draco tightened up deep inside of her and found his own with a loud grunt. He leaned down to rain kisses on the nape of her neck as the last waves of her orgasm crashed over her. They both collapsed on the couch, and Draco ran a hand up her tingling thigh.

“Shit, that was fast,” he sighed.

Hermione chuckled. “Sadly, fast is all I have time for. I need to head back before anyone wakes up, and notices I'm gone.”

“I’m off tomorrow, so I can come by once they leave if you want,” Draco said, nuzzling her neck.

“Maybe, I’ll let you know.” Hermione paused. “I think I'm going to tell Ginny tomorrow, about you, I mean.”

Draco sat up, suddenly much more alert. “Are you sure? You don’t have to. I didn’t mean to put pressure on you earlier.”

“Ah, are you ashamed of me now? Don’t want to be known as my boyfriend?” Hermione gave him a wry smile.

“You know that’s not the case at all,” he said. “I just know how you feel about your friends knowing, and I don’t want you to tell them until you’re really ready.”

“That's the thing, Draco,” she said. “I think I am.”

“Well,” he said. “Hallelujah.”

With a little laugh, Hermione stood and stretched. “I have to go. I’ll let you know if and when it’s okay to come by.”

Draco stood as well, pulling her into a hug, and giving her a deep, long kiss that made her wish she could say “sod it all” and go curl up in his bed with him. She knew she couldn't, however, not with her flat packed with Ginny and her friends. So with one more kiss for the road, Hermione walked across to the courtyard, and apparated back to the bathroom of her flat. She changed back to her pjs, gave a quick check to make sure that everyone was still sleeping peacefully, then crawled into her bed to try and get a little bit of sleep before having to face Ginny in the morning.


	8. The Cat's Out Of The Bag

Hermione rinsed the last remnants of dish soap off of the final champagne flute left over from brunch, and placed it with the others on the drying rack. She then picked up her small towel, and patted her hands dry while stifling a yawn.

“Rough night?” came Ginny’s voice from behind her, and she turned to face the redhead as another yawn escaped.

“You should know,” Hermione teased. “I’m craving a quick cup of coffee. Would you like one?”

Ginny shook her head no, leaning back against the countertop as Hermione fiddled with her coffeemaker.

“Why do you add salt to the coffee?” Ginny asked.

“Cuts down on the bitterness,” Hermione answered.

“Oh, okay.” Ginny examined her nails, trying hard to appear casual and nonchalant. “Say, Hermione…. um….”

“Yes?”

“Well, uh, where’d you go last night?”

Hermione’s fingers faltered, almost dropping her mug as she pulled it from the cabinet. “Whoops! My hands must still be a little damp. Sorry, what were you asking?”

“Last night, after we went to bed, I woke up and you were gone,” Ginny said more confidently.

“I got up to take a shower,” Hermione lied smoothly. “I told you that before I slipped out. You must have been too sleepy to remember. Would you like some tea instead?”

“No, thank you.” Ginny pursed her lips. “I remember you saying you were going to take a shower, but then I heard you apparate. Where’d you go?”

_Damn. Okay, now’s the time to tell her. Just say the words._ Hermione turned to face Ginny, face full of steely determination.

“I had to get tampons. My period surprised me.” _What? Ugh_ , Hermione grimaced to herself.

“Tampons.” Ginny’s eyes narrowed, and Hermione knew that she was caught. _Just tell her the truth. I’m dating Draco Malfoy._

“Yep, tampons.” _No!_ “Ow! What the hell, Ginny?” Hermione rubbed her arm where Ginny’s stinging hex had just hit.

“You really want to go with a midnight tampon run, Hermione?” Ginny raised her wand again. “Or should I just glance at the calendar on your fridge real quick, and point out that your period ended six days ago? Also, I stayed awake to listen. It doesn’t take _two hours_ to get tampons!”

“And shower,” Hermione cringed. She was well and truly caught. She’d told Draco that she was ready to come clean to her friends. Why couldn’t she just say the words?

“The shower never ran.” Ginny’s voice turned hurt and pleading. “What are you hiding?”

“I-”

Ginny went back to interrogation mode. “Honestly, Hermione, I am neither Harry nor my brother, and the fact that you think you can fob me off with talk of periods and tampons is just rude and insulting, but that does let me know that whatever you’re hiding is seriously juicy, and I demand to know what-”

“ _I’M DATING DRACO MALFOY!_ ”

“What? No.” Ginny gaped at her. She obviously hadn’t expected that. “But you said he had a girlfriend.”

“I’m the girlfriend,” Hermione blushed sheepishly. “We’ve been seeing each other for the last eight months.”

She hadn’t thought that Ginny’s eyes could bulge out any further than they already had. Hermione shuffled her feet as the seconds of silence ticked by.

“Say something,” Hermione said quietly. “Please, j-just let it all out. Tell me how awful he is, and how I deserve better. I know everyone hates him, but I love him, and I will admit that I should have told you long ago, but that's that only thing I'm sorry about, and-”

“Hermione, no-”

“I mean it, Ginny, he’s a good man. He made mistakes, we all did, but he’s good now, and you even said so yourself, right? And-”

“Hermione, stop babbling, please-”

“I’m not going to stop seeing him. I hope everyone can-”

“Are we too early or late?” Harry’s voice called out from Hermione's living room. The girls hadn’t even heard the Floo activate, and they froze as Ron and Harry joined them in the kitchen.

“Do you have any snacks left over? I hear these parties always have the best food.” Ron headed straight for the fridge. “Yes! Finger sandwiches!” He pulled the plate out, and brought it to the counter as he pulled the plastic wrap off to dive in. “Harry, you want some?”

Harry had gone right to Ginny’s side for a quick hug and kiss, but she did not respond to his affectionate greeting. He looked quickly between the two women, and picked up on the awkwardness immediately.

“Harry?” Ron questioned, holding out one of the miniature sandwiches.

“Um, no thanks,” he said. “What’s going on? I feel like we just interrupted something pretty major.”

Hermione glanced at Harry briefly, then turned her attention back to Ginny. She looked fit to burst. Ginny was giving her a torn look mixed with significant sideways nods in Harry and Ron’s directions. Hermione grimaced, and gave Ginny a slight nod in acceptance.

“Hermione’s dating Malfoy!” Ginny squeaked.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to her. “Hermione? Is this true?”

“Nah, she can’t be,” Ron scoffed through his full mouth. “He’s got a girlfriend.”

“And just how would you know that?” Hermione asked.

“Told me so himself,” Ron said. “Seemed pretty pleased to do so.”

Hermione balked. “When was this?”

“He treated me a few weeks ago down at St Mungo’s after I hurt myself on a case.” Ron picked up another sandwich. “It was pretty weird, come to think of it. He kept asking all kinds of questions about my past relationships, and whether or not I'd had any, you know, trouble performing.”

Ginny snickered. Hermione rushed to cover her mouth before her own laugh could escape. Harry, too, seemed to be fighting laughter. Ron didn’t even notice as he plowed through another sandwich.

“Yeah, I thought he was some kind of weird perv, wanting to know all about my junk,” he said through chews. “But he swore he needed to know all of that for my file. He even asked why you and I broke up, whether or not my ‘issues in the bedroom’ had anything to do with it. I started yelling about how I never had any issues, and then he starts going on and on about this bird he’s seeing, telling me how beautiful she is, how brilliant, how he’s never known anyone as amazing…”

Ron trailed off, and rounded on Hermione. She stood blushing prettily, while Ginny gestured at her like an overly-enthusiastic showcase spokesmodel on TV.

“That would be me,” Hermione said with a little wave.

“Well…. that makes a little more sense,” Ron said.

“So how long have you been dating him?” Harry asked.

“Eight months,” Ginny answered.

“Ginny,” Hermione scolded her.

“Sorry.”

“Yes, eight months.” Hermione braced herself for the onslaught of criticism that was sure to come next. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you, any of you. I know how poorly everyone thinks of him.”

“Actually, I think he’s great,” Ginny said with a slight shrug. “Harry?”

“I’m fine with it,” Harry nodded.

“Malfoy’s a decent bloke,” Ron said. “When he’s not accusing me of erectile dysfunction.”

Hermione powered through, oblivious to her friends’ comments. “I just didn’t want to have to choose between my friends and my- wait, what?” She looked around incredulously. “You’re not mad?”

“I just wish you’d told us,” Harry said.

“We just want you to be happy,” Ginny smiled. “And I told you I saw some sparks flying between you two last night.”

“I mean, really, little Ron works just fine,” Ron said. “I’ve certainly never had any complaints.”

“That’s because hands can’t talk,” Ginny said.

“Ron, focus,” Harry said with a pointed look at Hermione. “And wait, Ginny, you saw them together? When?”

“Oh, Harry, it was so cute!” Ginny squealed happily. “Hermione fell off the stage at the strip club and twisted her ankle-”

“Strip club?!” Harry questioned.

“Worry about it later,” Ginny soothed. “Anyways…”

Ron sidled up to Hermione while Ginny prattled on.

“This can’t be real,” Hermione muttered. “I mean, I know I didn’t sleep well. I must be delirious.”

“Why, because we’re all fine with this?” Ron asked her.

“Yes!” Hermione threw her hands up. “There’s no way everyone is just okay with my dating Draco Malfoy. We hate him.”

“You obviously don’t,” Ron said.

“You’re right, I don’t, of course not,” Hermione sighed. “I’ve just been so stressed about this the entire time, waiting for us to make a wrong move and be spotted out on a date or something, and have all of you hate me for being with him.”

Ron shrugged. “Things are different. People change. Look at me and Eloise.”

Hermione snorted. “Oh yes, Mr. ‘Too Good For Eloise Midgen’ and now you’d kill any bloke that dared to say she’s ugly.”

“You’re bloody right I would,” Ron scowled briefly. “And yes, if this was a few years ago, I wouldn’t be nearly as calm about you and Malfoy together, but like I said, things have changed. We’ve all grown up. Malfoy’s paid for his mistakes, and look at the stuff he does for the hospital and such.”

“He’s a good man,” she said.

“Do you love him?” Ron asked.

“I do.”

“And does he love you?”

Hermione grinned. “He does, no doubt about it.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” Ron pulled her in for a tight hug. “Just out of curiosity, if we had yelled and screamed, and demanded you choose…”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” she laughed.

“Well, I mean, of course you’d choose us, right?”

“Do you want more sandwiches?” Hermione asked. “I think there might be another tray in the fridge that got missed.”

“Hermione….”

“So are you bringing Draco to the wedding?” Harry interrupted.

“Oh, it’s ‘Draco’ now, is it?” Ginny teased.

Hermione mouthed a thank you to him, grateful for the escape. “We’ve talked about it. I guess I could if the bride has room for yet another guest.”

“Oh, I think we can squeeze in another chair,” Ginny said with a grin.

“Mum’s going to flip,” Ron said.

Hermione's eyes widened. She hadn’t even thought of that. Now that her three best friends knew, it was time for the rest of the world too.

 


	9. Nice Day For A White Wedding

The day of Ginny Weasley’s wedding to Harry Potter dawned bright and clear, with no more than the daintiest of breezes drifting through the flutterby bushes stationed at the backdoor of the Burrow. At least, that’s how it should have been.

Instead, thundering storm clouds rolled into Ottery St. Catchpole and its surrounding hillsides before the sun could even attempt a feeble effort at brightening the horizon. The pond flooded into the Burrow’s orchard that had been set up days prior with the altar where Ginny and Harry would be bonded. The flutterby bushes had fluttered right by the kitchen window as Molly Weasley watched helplessly. Only the marquee was left standing so far, but if the howling wind was any indication, it too would be gone before long.

The situation inside the Burrow was just as bleak. Weasley men of all ages were running to and fro with pots, pans, and buckets to catch all of the many drips. Molly was feverishly trying to keep the humidity that had made its way in from melting the cake’s frosting clean away. The ghoul in the attic was doing its level best to make a racket than the storm outside, caterwauling as loudly as it could, and banging on the pipes. And on the third floor was Ginny. The poor bride had struck up a wail so loud and long that Hermione had to struggle to even hear the ghoul or the storm blowing through.

“I hear rain on your wedding day is actually good luck,” Hermione said feebly as she passed yet another stack of tissues to her friend.

“Not the time, Hermione!” Ginny screeched. “Rain I could handle! _This_ \- this is a natural disaster of epic proportions!” With an almighty groan, Ginny flopped face first onto her bed.

“Oh, come on!” Hermione said cheerfully. “We’re witches, and witches get shit done! We’ll just forgo the heels, throw on some wellies, and shorten the dresses. That’ll work right?” She looked out of the window overlooking the orchard just as two chairs floated by, and what looked like Charlie Weasley splashing after them. “Oh, that’s not good. Okay, what’s Plan B? Surely you had a backup plan?”

“No! There’s no backup plan! What are we going to do?” Ginny groaned, flouncing over onto her back.

“Let me go talk to your mother,” Hermione said. “I’m sure we can think of something.”

Hermione's feet hit the bottom stair just as Harry entered through the front door. Soaked through with rain, he grinned at her, and began shaking water from his hair like a dog.

“Don’t you dare!” Hermione yelled, but it was too late. Drops of water were flying everywhere accompanied by a raucous laugh from Harry.

“Is that Harry?” Ginny screamed from the third floor. “He’s way too early! Let him know that he’s a dead man if he sees me before the ceremony!”

“Love you too,” he called up the stairs.

“Harry Potter, if you’ve tracked any mud in this house, I will flay you alive,” Molly threatened from the kitchen. “I don’t care if it _is_ your wedding day.”

“My future mother in law, ladies and gentlemen,” Harry beamed. Not even a death threat from his bride or Molly Weasley could dampen his smile today.

“This storm is crazy,” Harry said, removing his glasses to clean the water off the lenses. “I really need to remember to use that old impervious spell on my glasses on days like this. You know, the one you used back in school on rainy Quidditch days?”

“Harry, you’re a genius!” Hermione said. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Harry looked back at her like he’d missed a plot point. “Umm, thanks?”

Hermione ran off to wrangle as many Weasleys as she could, and within an hour, everything had been sorted. Ginny and Harry would now be bonded right inside the doorway with a view of the stairwell behind them. Not exactly the trees of the orchard lovingly entwined over their heads, but at least Ginny only had to walk down the stairs now and everyone would stay dry.

The marquee was moved so that it backed right up to the front door of the Burrow. Everyone except Ginny had worked furiously to charm the marquee to be impervious to the rain, but the best they’d been able to accomplish had been to form the water to run off the marquee in pretty little waterfalls which then ran away from the tent and into the garden. Drying charms had been used on the ground, but to little avail. The chairs were still sinking into the squelching muck that had been left behind once the marquee was in place. George had worked to conjure up several floating umbrellas around the gate area where the guests would be apparating in, but just in case, Hermione herself had managed a neat little drying charm at the entrance of the marquee so that the guests wouldn’t be shivering and soaking the entire ceremony if they did still manage to get caught in the downpour. Lastly, the ushers had all been coached in the impervious charm to keep the guests’ shoes and robes from getting muddy. Once she was satisfied that they’d covered everything, Hermione stepped back to survey their handiwork, praying to whomever was listening that it would all be enough to salvage the big day.

“Looking good,” Harry said as he sidled up to her.

“Thanks, but I have a boyfriend, and you’re getting married,” she teased.

Harry chuckled. “You got me. Speaking of, is Malfoy going to be able to make the festivities?”

“He said he would,” Hermione answered, turning to go back inside. “We’re fortunate that he was able to switch shifts to be here.”

“Is he excited?” Harry asked. “You know, about you two finally going public?”

“Oh, he’s thrilled,” she replied.

And he had been. When Hermione broke the news to Draco that she’d actually come clean to her three best friends, he had kissed her so hard her head spun.

“If I'd known that that would be your reaction, I'd have told them ages ago,” she’d joked.

“So, _your_ friends know, and _my_ friends know,” he’d said. “Does this mean that I can finally take you out in public? No more hiding out at home? Or secret rendezvous in foreign countries?”

“Well, I quite like staying home,” she’d said. “And the secret rendezvous. But yes, we can be seen in public now. In fact, I want you to be my date to Harry and Ginny’s wedding as our first official public outing.”

“Surrounded by Weasleys on our first outing?” Draco had grimaced.

“You’ll have to get used them at some point if we’re going to make this work, right?”

“No, I don’t,” he’d said.

“Yes, you do,” she’d said firmly. “I have brunch at the Burrow practically every Sunday, and once the rest of the family knows, I'm sure that they’ll invite you along.”

“I’ll fix my schedule to be on call every Sunday to avoid that brood,” Draco had threatened. “But, wait, the rest of them don’t know?”

“No, I've only told Harry, Ginny, and Ron so far as they’re the most important.”

“So the rest will find out at the wedding?” he’d asked and she’d nodded. “Oh, that’ll be fun. They’ll try to banish me from the property as soon as I apparate in.”

“Harry,” Hermione said, coming out of her thoughts. “Do you think I should tell the family before he gets here? They won’t try to hex him away, will they?”

Harry shook his head. “Well, I may have already mentioned that he’d been invited. They’re not happy, but Ginny and I put our feet down.”

Hermione breathed a little sigh of relief. “Thank you for that, Harry.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “I told you, I want you to be happy, and if he makes you happy, I'll support it. By the way, do his parents know?”

“Yes, we decided to tell them after we knew we’d be able to go public,” she said.

“How’d they take the news?” Harry asked.

“Better than I thought, which is saying something,” Hermione answered. “Narcissa has your attitude about it. She’ll support anything that makes Draco happy. Lucius, well, it was obvious he’s not thrilled, but he’s keeping quiet.”

“Yes, well, it’s not like we can expect him to jump for joy in the middle of Diagon Alley about it,” Harry said. “But I would hope that after everything he went through during the war and Azkaban that he’d have realized how wrong he's been about his prejudices.”

“Hmm, we’ll just have to wait and see,” Hermione said. “And who knows? Draco and I could break up next week.”

Harry laughed. “Oh yes, maybe the strain of being able to walk down the street together in broad daylight will be too much for your secretive selves to bear. Somehow, I doubt it.”

Hermione smiled. “What makes you so sure?”

“This,” Harry said, gesturing to her. “You’re too smiley. It’s weird.”

She snorted. “Oh yes, Merlin forbid I finally have some happiness.”

“Shouldn’t you two be getting ready?” Molly asked as she peeked around the corner from the kitchen. “The guests will start arriving soon, and Hermione, your hair is an absolute wreck!”

“Yes ma’am,” they responded in unison, and turned to tromp up the stairs.

As Hermione followed Luna down the stairs an hour and a half later at the start of the ceremony, she couldn’t help but sneak a peek out at the audience through the doorway. Someone had successfully expanded the opening to give the crowd assembled easier access to see inside without having to crowd the aisle, and she was able to spot Draco’s pale blonde head almost immediately seated in the middle of the assembled guests. She gave him a shy smile from under her lashes before resuming her concentration to not falling over the hem of her pale blue dress.

Throughout the ceremony, Hermione could feel Draco’s gaze burning into her back as Harry and Ginny exchanged their vows. Once the bonding was complete and the couple kissed, she chanced a glance over her shoulder to share another grin with her lover.

“Oh, so it’s Draco then?” Luna whispered to Hermione.

“What?” Hermione blushed.

“Your secret boyfriend.”

“How did you know?” she asked, half expecting the strange girl to say that the wrackspurts had told her.

“You’ve been very smiley lately,” Luna said in her dreamy voice.

“So I've been told,” Hermione muttered.

As the applause for the newly married couple died down, and the tables for the reception appeared under the marquee, Hermione hitched up her dress in one hand, and went on the hunt for Draco, finding him off to one side of the tent with Ron and Eloise. Draco gave her a tight smile as he handed her a glass of champagne.

“Ready to get this show on the road?” he asked.

“After your parents, this should be a breeze,” she said.

“What are you going to do?” Ron asked. “Make some big announcement?”

Hermione looked to Draco and shrugged. “We haven’t really thought that far.”

“I thought we could just dance,” Draco said. “Let people come to their own conclusions. I don’t see the need for any proclamations.”

“So you don't want me to stand on a table and announce that Hermione Granger is dating Draco Malfoy?” Ron joked.

“She’s _what_?”

The laughter immediately died on Hermione's lips as she turned to see a very red-faced Molly and Arthur Weasley.

“I was going to tell you,” Hermione said.

“How long has this been going on?” Molly asked.

“We started seeing each other eight months ago,” she answered.

“And _you_ ,” Molly hissed turning to Ron. “You knew about this?”

“I just found out a few days ago, Mum,” he said sheepishly.

“Are you happy, I presume?” Arthur asked. Hermione nodded. “Then we’ll learn to accept it.”

“No, we most certainly will not!” Molly said harshly. “How can you be okay with this? How can you date this man after everything he’s done?”

“I’ve forgiven him, Molly,” Hermione said plainly.

“Well, I haven’t,” she said.

“Then I feel sorry for you,” Hermione responded. She took Draco’s hand, and led him off to the dance floor, leaving a shaking Molly in her wake.

“You okay?” Draco asked her softly as he pulled Hermione into his arms.

“We can’t win them all, I guess,” she said. “I mean, it would be very naive of me to assume that everyone would just jump on board, and be happy for us.”

“True,” he said. “And you have never been a naive person.”

Hermione could feel the stares and see people whispering as she swayed in Draco’s embrace to the music.

“Everyone is looking at us,” she told him.

“Just ignore them.”

“How?”

“Easy,” he smirked. “You have an incredibly handsome, and dare I say, sexy man in your arms. Why waste one moment on the petty glances of the crowd when you could be staring at me?”

Hermione laughed. “You are the most incorrigible man that I have ever met.”

“You know you love me,” Draco grinned.

“I do,” Hermione sighed. “I really do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left. *ducks for cover*


	10. Epilogue Part One: Just The Tip

**Eighteen Months Later**

“Okay, for the last time, what are the rules of hen night?” Ginny asked the assembled guests.

“It’s the bride’s night, our feelings don’t matter,” four voices chanted back.

“Very good,” Ginny grinned, obviously chuffed. “Yes, Hermione, you have a question?”

“What if the bride couldn’t give two shits about her hen night?” the bride asked.

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still doing it,” Ginny said nonplussed. “Any other questions? Yes?”

“Why am I here?” Draco asked.

“Because my husband doesn’t trust me to be out on my own, so he insisted we make this a co-ed party,” Ginny said in the manner of someone who had repeated these words before a hundred times, and shot a glare at her husband.

“It has nothing to do with trust, and everything to do with the fact that you are nine months pregnant!” Harry argued. “I’m not having my wife give birth while table dancing at some sleazy pub!”

“I called your bluff!” Ginny countered, jutting out her bulging belly as if for emphasis. “You didn’t think I’d actually agree to this joint party idea!”

“Still doesn’t explain why I had to be here,” Draco muttered.

“Oh, hush,” Hermione said. “You’re just upset that I get a crown and you don’t.”

“There’s still time to make one,” he pointed out. “That paperweight would make a lovely crown.”

“Or you could just take mine,” Hermione said holding out the rhinestone tiara that had yet to grace her curls. “It’s not like I plan to wear it.”

“You’re wearing it!” Ginny paused in her debate with her husband to shove the plastic tiara onto Hermione’s head. “It's the same one I wore, which makes it a tradition now. Eloise can wear it too in a few months.”

“Don't drag me into this,” Eloise squirmed.

“I don’t want that plastic thing anyways!” Draco pouted while Ginny and Harry resumed their argument in the background. “I want a proper crown.”

“Ugh, you’re such a whiner,” Hermione tutted.

“You love me,” Draco teased, leaning in to bump her shoulder with his.

“You test my love,” she retorted back. “Every single day.”

“I still don’t know why I had to be here either,” Ron said in a stage whisper to Draco and Hermione.

“Because you tag along to anything Potter does,” Draco answered. “Uff! Hey!” he protested when Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

“You’re going, end of discussion!” Ginny huffed loudly to her husband, then turned to the rest of the group. “Anyone else wanna fight about it?” Everyone shook their heads. “Alright, then, let’s go!”

“At least we get to keep our wands this time,” Hermione whispered to Draco as they stood to leave.

“I stuffed an extra one down my shorts just in case Potterette tried to steal mine,” he whispered back.

************

The pounding bass of the music thrummed through the darkened club like a pulsing heartbeat and vibrated the vinyl seat underneath Hermione.

“Have I mentioned how utterly stunning you are tonight?” Draco breathed into her ear.

Hermione smirked. “Only about a hundred times.”

“Not nearly enough then,” he said with a wink.

At Draco’s insistence, she’d dragged the thigh high boots out of the back of her closet for the night, and had even conceded to wearing a new little black dress that he’d purchased for her, though calling it a “dress” was a bit of a stretch as it felt much more like a shirt to Hermione. Draco, however, very much enjoyed the skimpy outfit, and kept showing his appreciation of her ensemble by doodling random drawings and words on the exposed part of her thigh under the table.

“How much longer do we have to stay here to get the complete experience?” Harry yelled over the din.

“Shut up, it’s fun,” Ginny said cheerfully.

“Oh, yes, _so_ much fun,” Draco said drolly.

“I’m really uncomfortable,” Ron said as a thong-clad waiter sashayed past their booth. He pulled Eloise back as she lunged to stick a handful of pound notes in the elastic band of the waiter’s thong right as another waiter sidled up to their table.

“Well, don’t you all look like a fun group?” he grinned widely. “We’re not used to seeing so many men in here. At least, men still in their clothes.”

Hermione assumed that the man was very glad to finally have some male clientele to wait on based on the appreciative glances he was shooting at her fiancé.

“It would have been just us girls,” Ginny said.”But my husband decided to throw a hissy fit.”

“You’re going to pop any day now,” Harry said. “I’d like to at least be in the vicinity when it happens.”

“Draco’s one of the best heal- doctors in the country,” Ginny reminded him. “I would have been just fine with him around.”

“Ooh, there’s a doctor in the house?” the waiter cooed.

“Yeah, no, my specialty is much more of a GP thing, not obstetrics” Draco said. “Plus, I don’t really fancy having to stick my head up your kit, so please, Potterette, for all of our sakes just keep those legs crossed for the night, thanks.”

“Cheers,” Harry said as Ginny rolled her eyes.

“So, I see a tiara,” the waiter said loudly, redirecting the attention back to him. “Are we celebrating tonight?”

“It’s her hen night!” Ginny beamed, pointing to Hermione.

“And my stag night,” Draco said pointedly.

“Yep, what she said,” Hermione said with a grimace.

“Oh, how fun!” the waiter said excitedly. “When’s the big day?”

“Next weekend,” Hermione answered.

The waiter clapped his hands together once. “Okay, well, you’ll definitely want our hen night special! It comes with a bottle of champagne and a round of specialty shots for your whole party.”

“Champagne and shots,” Hermione said with a nod. “I can handle that, though I don’t want to get too crazy tonight.”

“Me too,” agreed Eloise.

“Does anyone want anything additional?” the waiter asked. “How about you, Mum To Be? Something nonalcoholic for you?”

“Do you have lemonade?” Ginny asked. “I’d love some lemonade. Ooh, with ice! Yes, ice cold lemonade. And if you could make it look festive so I don’t feel left out, you know, in a fancy glass with an umbrella. And don’t forget, lots and lots of ice.”

“I want firewhiskey,” Ron interjected with a slight raise of his hand.

Their waiter just gaped at him. “You want me to set the whiskey on fire?”

“Just whiskey, no fire,” Harry said quickly. “I’ll have one as well. Two fingers, neat.”

“Sounds good,” the waiter said with a hesitant look at Ron. “Is that all?”

“I’ll have scotch on the rocks, please,” Draco said, pulling out his wallet. “ And you can just put it all on my card.”

“But you’re the groom?” It came out as a question though he still took Draco’s proffered card. “Shouldn’t they be paying for you and your lovely bride?”

“I’m the richest man in England,” Draco said plainly. “I don’t need anyone to buy my drinks.”

“Draco….” Hermione hissed.

“Okay, second richest,” he amended. “My father’s actually the richest.”

“It’s not like my vault has moths flying in it,” Harry said. Not one to be outdone by Draco Malfoy, he pulled out his own credit card, and didn’t notice Ron’s evasive blush.

“No deal, Potter,” Draco said, waving away his card. “Sir, just take my card.”

“Right away, your highness!” the waiter joked with a little bow before he strolled away with Draco’s credit card. Eloise stared after him wistfully, still clutching her pounds.

“I thought I was going to pay him in his underwear,” she said sadly.

“You can always tip him when he returns with the drinks,” Hermione told her.

“You should have let us pay for that, Malfoy,” Harry said. “This is yours and Hermione’s night after all.”

Draco just stared at Harry. “I have more money than you.”

“It’s not as though the Potters were paupers!” Harry scoffed. “And don’t forget that I inherited the Black money too.”

“ _Some_ of the Black money,” Draco stated.

“What?”

“You have _some_ of the Black money,” Draco repeated. “Only one side.”

“When Sirius died, he was the sole heir to the Black line,” Harry growled. “He was the only ‘side’, and he left me everything; all of the money in the Black vault and Grimmauld Place, also known as the ancestral home of the Black Family.”

“ _One_ of the Black homes,” Draco corrected.

“What?” Harry’s face was quickly turning purple.

Draco sighed. “I said you have _one_ of the homes. I have Black Manor, the real ancestral home. Nobody wanted that moldy old townhouse anyways.”

Harry blinked twice before speaking. “Black Manor? I’ve never heard of a Black Manor.”

“Where did you think my mother and her sisters lived growing up, crammed in a bed with Sirius and his brother?” Draco snorted. “Of course there was a Manor! It should have gone to Bella, but thankfully she and Rodolphus never had a chance to procreate in Azkaban. Next in line would have been Andromeda, but she became as good as dead once she got knocked up by the Muggle-born. No offense to my own Muggle-born darling, whom I will look forward to knocking up eventually.”

“None taken,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.

“Once I was born, everything my grandparents had was put in my name, and I inherited it all at seventeen,” he finished.

“So there’s a Black Manor somewhere that you own just rotting away?” Eloise asked.

“No, it’s not rotting,” Draco said. “My grandparents had two elves that actually took some pride in their home, unlike that mangy flea-bitten pest Walburga kept around, and these last few months Hermione and I have been redecorating everything from top to bottom to have it ready for us to move in after the honeymoon.”

“What about Malfoy Manor?” Ron asked. “Don’t you own that too? I figured you’d be living there.”

“Well, yes, Malfoy Manor is mine too by all accounts,” Draco said with a smile as the waiter set down the champagne in an ice bucket and left to go get their other drinks. “But I’m not going to kick my parents out of their home, and I don’t plan to live with them either after I’m married, especially as I haven’t lived there in years. I moved out as soon as I finished my Healer training.”

“And wait, you have money from the Blacks too?” Harry asked.

“What, does it chap your hide to know that you didn’t get it all?” Draco laughed scornfully, though there was no real malice in it. “My mother’s parents had a separate vault from Walburga and her clan for years, just as I have a separate vault from my father, so, yes, that came to me as well.”

Ron let out a low whistle. “You really are the richest wizard in Britain.”

“Second richest,” Draco corrected.

“Alright, here we go!” The waiter had returned with their drinks. “Lemonade for you, in a fancy glass with lots of ice. Two neat whiskeys, and a scotch on the rocks. Let me just grab those specialty shots, and we’ll be all set.”

Draco picked up his tumbler, but sat it back down before taking a drink. “There are penises in my glass,” he said with a frown.

“What?” Hermione reached for his glass, looked inside, and burst out laughing. Sure enough, the ice cubes in his glass were in the shape of little penises.

“Oh my Merlin,” Ginny breathed. “They’re in mine too! And my straw is a penis! Guys, look, my straw! It’s a penis! I have to suck a penis to drink my lemonade!” As If to prove her point, she placed her lips around the tiny plastic penis, and took a greedy sip.

“They’re even in the bucket!” Eloise laughed, holding up a handful of icy penises.

“They must have a machine,” Hermione said. “An iced penis machine. I wonder what a thing like that costs? I mean, it must have been specially made just for this club.”

“Maybe all male revues have them,” Ginny shrugged. “Do female strip clubs have booby ice?”

“Wouldn’t it be vulva ice?” Eloise quipped.

“I can’t drink penises,” Draco said, pushing his glass away from him as though the penises would jump out to attack him if they got close enough.

Hermione chuckled at him. “Seriously? It’s only ice! Is your masculinity so fragile that you can’t handle ice that just happens to be shaped like little penises?”

He picked his glass back up, and took a hesitant sniff before slowly raising it to his lips.

“Shouldn’t you have known about the penis ice?” Harry asked. “Is this not the same club you came to for Ginny’s hen night?”

Hermione looked thoughtful. “It’s the same club, but I honestly did not pay much attention to the ice.”

“Yeah, you were too busy falling off of the stage,” Draco glared.

“I _thought_ you looked familiar!” their waiter crowed as he came bearing a tray of shot glasses.

Hermione blushed beet red. “Let’s not bring that back up, shall we?”

“Oh, wait till I tell Tommy you’re back!” their waiter continued on as he deposited each shot in front of the members of their group. “Poor chap felt terrible about dropping you, though he did say it felt more like you’d jumped. He just couldn’t understand why. He’d thought you and he were really vibing that night.”

“Okay, that’s enough talk about that!” Hermione said urgently, ignoring the fiery stare coming from Draco’s direction. “What have we got here? That’s a whole lot of whipped cream I see.”

“Oh, these are blow jobs!” the waiter beamed.

“Pardon?” Hermione asked, patting Draco roughly on the back as he choked on his scotch. The others seemed to have been stunned into silence.

“Blow jobs,” he said again. “Have you ever had one before?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Hermione strained to say around the laughter bubbling up.

“I’ve had a few here and there,” Ron smirked.

“Likewise,” Harry said with a wink at Ginny.

“Boys,” Ginny said as she shared a look of irritation with Eloise.

“I- I just, I mean to say…” Draco trailed off as he fumbled for his words, his normally cool, suave demeanor completely lost. He placed his head down in his hands, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Just when I thought we’d had enough penis talk already.” Hermione let her own laughs take over, burying her head in Draco’s shoulder.

“It appears we’ve only brushed the tip,” Harry said, and they were all done for.


	11. Epilogue Part 2: Off To The Races

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta i_was_BOTWP for encouraging me always, and many thanks to my readers that are still with me.

Despite all of her whinging at the start of the evening, Hermione the Hen was having a fabulous time. Six blow jobs and three flutes of champagne had caused her to be straddling her fiance’s lap in a most indecent way. It was almost too much for her friends, with their staunch attitudes against public displays of affection. In fact, had it been anyone else, Hermione herself would have been the first one to leave the table in protest, but for now, she was the culprit and was much too busy snogging Draco as though their very lives depended on it to care what her friends thought.

 

“I love you so much,” Hermione murmured in between furious kisses. “I’m gonna marry you”  _ smack _ “so”  _ slurp _ “fucking”  _ smooch _ “hard.”

 

Draco gripped her arse tightly, pulling her down onto his prominent erection and grinding into her. “I am so fucking turned on right now,” he slurred out. “I am going to take you right here and right now.”

 

“I am so uncomfortable right now,” said Ginny as she tried to scootch away from Draco and Hermione’s snog fest in the cramped booth. “Is anyone else uncomfortable?”

 

Harry’s eyes were intently studying some random scratches in the surface of the table, while Ron was eyeing Hermione and Draco almost wistfully. At least that’s how GInny wanted to perceive his glazed over eyes and heavy pants. It was easier to think he was pining instead of just a creepy voyeur. Eloise was ensconced somewhere by the stage. They hadn’t seen her in at least an hour.

 

Hermione finally took the hint and pulled herself away from sucking the air from Draco’s lungs, though she still straddled him. She should be thankful that Ronald hadn’t yet realized that if he just leaned forward slightly, he’d see a tiny glimpse of her rounded cheeks peeking out from under the hem of her dress. 

 

“Sorry, guys,” Hermione cooed. She didn’t sound the least bit sorry as she toyed with Draco’s hair, and he dotted kisses across her collarbone.

 

“This is very unlike you, Hermione,” Harry scowled. “Do you have to be so…  _ handsy _ ?”

 

She let out a very un-Hermione-like giggle. It seemed that Draco was now whispering something very naughty in her ear. Ginny rolled her eyes at her husband.

 

“Quit being so… so…  _ British _ ,” Ginny said quietly. “She’s a bit pissed. Of course she’s going to be acting differently. Let her have her fun. Ron? Ron?” She snapped her fingers in front of his face to break his daze. “Where’s Eloise?”   
  


Ron looked around in a panic. “Shit, have I lost her?” He jumped up from the booth and ran off into the hordes of women to find his girlfriend.

 

Ginny leaned back into the booth with a sigh. “Circe’s tits, I could use a drink.” 

 

Hermione sat up and thrust her fists in the air. “Blow job!” she cried.

 

“No, I may have watched you suck tonsils for the last what feels like an eternity,” Harry threatened. “But I absolutely put my foot down at seeing you suck Draco’s cock.”

 

His three friends stared at him with bulging eyes, before Hermione snickered and burst into laughter. Ginny and Draco followed suit. 

 

“Like I would go  _ that _ far, Harry,” Hermione giggled. “I do have a few scruples left in me.”

 

“Hard to tell right now,” Harry grumbled.

 

“Whatever,” Hermione waved him off, unbothered by his dig. “I was talking about shots.”

 

“M’lady wants more shots,” Draco said. “More shots she shall get. Can anyone see our waiter?”

 

Ginny and Harry exchanged grimaces. They knew that the last thing Hermione needed was more alcohol. Still, Ginny knew that Hermione had put up with this and more on her own hen night, so she swallowed back the admonishments bubbling up in her mouth and cast her eyes around the dim club for their waiter. She and Draco caught his eye at the same time, and Draco raised his hand in a circle motion to signal another round for the table. Their waiter gave them a nod of acknowledgement and hurried off to the bar just as Ron arrived back at the table dragging Eloise by the hand.

 

“Eloise!” Hermione crowed joyously. “We’ve got more shots coming up! Ready to go for the best two out of three?”

 

When the first round of shots had been brought to their table, their waiter- Sam, Ginny remembered -had had to explain to them (after they’d all stopped laughing of course) that one doesn’t take a blow job shot the same way they’d shoot, say, tequila or vodka. No, you weren’t allowed to use your hands. You had to clasp your hands behind your back, and take the shot using only your mouth. Upon hearing that, each of the men at the table said various versions of “no way in hell”, threats to their fragile masculinity be damned. Hermione and Eloise had shrugged, and claimed three shots each as Sam had brought enough for everyone despite Ginny’s inability to drink hers. They’d gone through their lines of shots as fast as they could, and after Eloise had finished a touch faster than her, Hermione had promptly ordered another round and called for a rematch. She had won the next race, so now it was time for the tie-breaker match, it seemed.

 

Suddenly, the club went dark. All the men at the table reached for their wands. Harry immediately tried to put himself in front of his wife, and Draco had picked Hermione up off of his lap and positioned himself in front of her as well. Ron had still been standing and whirled into a defensive position, wand in hand while Eloise stood frozen behind him. Ginny too tensed up until a spotlight came on and started swirling slowly around the club and a knowing grin spread across her face. 

 

“Ron, put that away!” she hissed.

 

“Oh laaadiiiiies….” an ominous voice drawled.

 

Hermione screeched and dove under the table and Ginny dissolved into laughter, clutching her sides as her baby kicked out protests for being disturbed. 

 

“We hear there’s some hens in the house tonight,” the voice called out.

 

“Would someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on?” Ron asked, trying to make his voice heard over the screams of the women in the club as he hesitantly holstered his wand. Harry and Draco had both relaxed, but Ginny could tell that each of the men were still armed and ready. 

 

“No no no no no no no!” Hermione moaned from her hiding place. “I forgot, dammit, how could I forget?”

 

“Forget what?” Draco asked, impatience tinging his tone. He glared at Ginny who was still doing her best to contain her laughter. Thankfully Sam the waiter chose that moment to show up with their drinks. “Sir, can you explain what is going on and why it would freak my fiancé out so badly?”

 

“What? Where is she?” Sam asked then followed Draco’s finger to spot Hermione hiding under the table. “Oh, honey, you don’t have to worry. Your turn will come later. See?” He pointed out into the club where the roving spotlight had landed on a table with a very excited party of screeching women. 

 

“But I do  _ have _ to have a turn, don’t I?” Hermione asked meekly as she peeked out. 

 

“Well, I mean, most of the hens are always excited to go up,” Sam said, not quite sure how to answer. “I guess I could see if they’ll skip you, what with your history of falling off the stage and all.”

 

A light bulb seemed to ding over Draco’s head at Sam’s words. “Ah, the dance,” he said. “You don’t want to dance with the stripper.” Hermione nodded solemnly, and he pulled her up into his arms. “Well I’m not sure if I much fancy watching some other man get naked and rub up all over you. Would you rather leave?”

 

“No!” Ginny smacked her hand down on the table. “No one’s leaving! You did it for me on my hen night, so it’s only right if I do the same for you.” 

 

“Like hell you will!” Harry exclaimed.

 

“Are you mental?” Hermione asked. “You’re likely to get so worked up that your waters will break as soon as he gets his pants off!”

 

“I’ll do it,” Eloise piped up, but Ron’s deathly glare put an end to that suggestion before anyone could accept.

 

“Too bad you can’t be my stripper,” Hermione sighed, elbowing Draco playfully. “That would be so hot, I’d gladly jump on stage for that chance.” 

 

Draco snorted. “I bet you would,” he said with a wink. “But I highly doubt they’d let an amateur dance just because you think it’d be hot.”

 

“Actually,” Sam said thoughtfully. “We do have an amateur night where anyone can dance. Granted those are on Sunday which are really slow nights, and it’d be really unorthodox for an amateur to dance for a hen party, but maybe I could ask?”

 

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “Would you? Oh, Sam, that would mean the world to me!”

 

“Wait, you’d rather have your fiance get naked in front of all of these screaming birds while they stuff money in his pants than just leave?” Ron asked skeptically. 

 

“Well, he won’t be getting naked,” Hermione explained. “And it’s not ideal, but I’d rather him than any random bloke.”

 

“Cheers, love,” Draco smirked.

 

“Oh, you know what I mean,” she chided. “Besides, they don’t give the stripper money on a hen dance. It’s kind of like a freebie private show.”

 

“No money? Well, I’m out then.” Draco joked.

 

“Like you need it,” Ginny said. “Sam, could you ask the manager if they’d allow it? No use getting our hopes up till we know for sure, right?”

 

“Sure thing,” Sam nodded.

 

“If he says yes, bring me a shot of whiskey,” Draco said. “I’ll need a bit of liquid courage for this.”

 

The group waited anxiously for Sam’s return, their fingers rapping on the table or playing nervously with their glasses. When they finally caught sight of Sam, Draco blanched at the shot glass in his hand.

 

“Shite,” he whispered.

 

“Are you changing your mind?” Hermione asked gently. “We can leave if you’d rather not do this after all.” She squeezed Draco’s hand tightly in a show of support, yet he shook his head no. 

 

“I just didn’t think they’d really go for it,” he said. “It’ll be a laugh though, right? Something to tell the grandkids someday.”

 

“Uh, maybe we’ll just keep this story to ourselves,” Hermione smiled. 

 

“It’s all set,” Sam beamed as he placed the shot of whiskey in front of Draco. “I had to do a bit of convincing, you know, tell my manager how hot you are, and how the women will just eat you up. He wants you to practice a bit first, so I’m to take you backstage. Oh, and I played up the sexy doctor thing, and he said maybe we can scrounge up a lab coat for you. Do the ‘Doctor Feelgood’ routine.”

 

Hermione laughed. “I think that song may be a bit advanced for him. Maybe we can try something slower?”

 

“Are you doubting my skills as a stripper?” Draco asked in mock offense. 

 

“Never,” she chuckled. “Go show me what you can do, Doctor Feelgood.”

 

“With pleasure.” And with a signature Malfoy smirk planted firmly on his face, Draco stood to follow Sam backstage.

 

Hermione wasn’t doing very well at waiting for Draco. Would he come back to their table before his dance, or would she not see him again until he strutted onto the stage? To take her mind off things, she challenged Eloise to another shot race which ended in Hermione’s defeat. That Eloise was just too quick with her mouth. Good for Ron, she guessed. She then let Eloise and Ginny drag her up to the stage to throw a few pound notes at the other strippers. She was just starting to really get into it when the blonde magician that had dropped her on Ginny’s hen night came out to perform. He seemed to be studying her face for a moment, and Hermione had to duck into the crowd before recognition fully set in. Not caring that her girlfriends were still up at the stage, Hermione settled into the booth once more with Harry and Ron. They both eyed her grumpily.

 

“Oh, what now?” she asked in irritation.

 

“We’re just a bit… unsettled,” Harry said. “You haven’t been acting like yourself at all this evening.”

 

“The skimpy outfit, the drinking, the snogging,” Ron ticked each offense off on his fingers.

 

“It’s my hen night,” Hermione reminded them. “I’m allowed to get a bit crazy if I want.”

 

Harry didn’t seem convinced. “I also find it hard to believe that you’re letting Draco strip onstage in front of all these women.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh that? Pfft, it’s just a laugh. And like I said, he won’t go full monty, so these women are missing out on the important bits, and they’ll never see him again anyways.”

 

“Hermione…” Ron said. “It still seems odd. I can’t believe he agreed to it.”

 

“Like you wouldn’t do it for Eloise?” Hermione asked. 

 

Ron shrugged. “Dunno.”

 

“Listen, regardless of what you two think or feel,” Hermione said, “or however impractical some things might seem, tonight is about Draco and me. If we want to get crazy and drink too much and snog and get naked onstage, it’s our business. We’re having fun with our friends. Isn’t that what tonight should be about?”

 

But before either one could answer, the lights in the club went off again.

 

“I really wish they’d stop doing that,” Harry ground out through clenched teeth.

 

“Would Hermione Granger please report to the stage?” the announcer’s voice called out as the spotlight illuminated their table. “We have a special treat in store for you.”

 

Cheers filled the club as Hermione proudly stood to make her way to the stage, tiara glittering brightly in the lights. She soon found herself back in the familiar position of waiting on the darkened stage. This time at least she knew what awaited her behind the curtain. As the spotlight kicked on once more, she held her arms out to greet the catcalls and cheers.

 

“Bring on the naked man!” she cried, and the crowd went wild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. Blow job races are a real thing. My personal record is fifteen shots in less than five minutes.


	12. Epilogue Part Three: Cheers, Bitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of my thanks to my beta i_was_botwp for grading the smut in this chapter an A+. That means the world coming from an award-winning smut writer such as yourself. Also, all of my love and thanks to the readers for sticking with me. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on this ending.

Hermione sat on the edge of her seat, bouncing up and down a bit in an attempt to diffuse the delirious giggles that kept bubbling up like the champagne she’d been consuming for the better part of the evening. Everything was so surreal right now and completely beyond the pale of normalcy. In what world would Hermione Granger ever be okay letting the man she loved strip down in front of a crowd of screaming women all reaching out to claw and grab at him? Apparently this world, as Hermione found herself eagerly anticipating that man while surrounded by said screaming women. 

 

Truth be told, the whole thought of her man up here on the stage dancing just for her made her deliciously turned on. She wondered if that’s why Draco had agreed so quickly. Had he sensed her desire? She wouldn’t put it past him. He seemed to know all of her little facial cues and tells. 

 

“Okay, ladies,” the announcer drawled out. “This here is a special treat! We have a first-timer coming up on the stage tonight, so please, be gentle with him.” The announcer’s chuckles were drowned out by the erupting screams of the audience. “Welcome to the stage Count  _ Shag _ -ula!” 

 

Hermione had to stop herself from doubling over in laughter at the stupid moniker. Had Draco picked that name, or had the club? She’d have to ask him about that when this was all over. For now it was time to concentrate on the synthesized music pumping from the speakers and the silhouette of Draco behind the white curtain at the back of the stage. 

 

She was a little surprised at how easy it was for her to tune out the club goers as the curtain raised to reveal Draco holding a long black cape close to his body. He strutted out onto the stage slowly, matching the beat of Def Leppard’s “Love Bites”. Nice, Hermione thought to herself. He’d taken her advice on trying out a slower paced song. Not only that, but he’s picked one that actually held a bit of special meaning to them as they had had many a steamy shower duet to this song in their courtship. 

 

Draco’s eyes were trained on her as he extended his arms out to show off the vampire-esque cape. In any other situation, she would have laughed and teased him about a similarity to Professor Snape and the way he’d used to swish and swirl his robes, but Draco’s burning gaze left nothing but lust in her. He’d finally reached her in the chair, and he wrapped the cape around her, bringing her close enough to touch as he tilted their cloaked bodies back onto the chair legs before he pulled away again teasingly with his trademark smirk. 

 

Hermione reached her hands out to pull him back to her, but he dropped down to his knees instead and gave her a taunting shake of his head as he ran his hands up her legs and spread them wide. She gripped onto his shoulders as his head dipped down, and then she felt Draco’s lips as he nipped playfully at her inner thighs. She felt his nose graze the hem of her shirt dress as he inhaled. 

 

Maybe it was the combination of his proximity to her and the music. Or maybe it was just instincts that had her gripping his hair to keep him there at the juncture of her thighs as her mind filled with images from their shower scenes. 

 

_ Draco was on his knees before her, her left leg thrown over his shoulder as he breathed in her scent.  _

 

_ “Gods, you’re the most delectable thing I have ever tasted, Granger,” he groaned before latching his mouth once more into her clit. Her hands fisted in his hair as his tongue drew circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.  _

 

_ “Cause making love to you might drive me cra-zaaaayyyy….” _

 

Draco was up and fumbling a bit with the buttons on the white shirt under the cape. Hermione reached out once more, ready to rip the shirt apart, but with a flourishy little spin he moved away from her. Oh sod that, she thought, and jumped up, knocking the chair over in her haste. She met him in two strides, determination glittering in her eyes. She grasped the shirt in her hands and tore the blasted thing open much to the delight of the club’s patrons who scrambled to catch the flying buttons. Draco’s astonishment lasted only a brief second before he grabbed her hands and whirled her around so that her back was held tight against his bare chest. 

 

_ He held her up against his chest with one arm, the other arm was snaked down across her hips, his hand buried into her folds. His thumb rubbed softly on her clit, while he pumped three fingers forcefully inside of her. She met his fiery eyes in the mirror. _

 

_ “Don’t look at me, look at yourself,” Draco growled into her ear. “I want you to watch as you come undone.” _

 

_ “Unghh, ohhh,” she moaned, as her muscles began to clench and spasm around his fingers. _

 

Draco’s hands rubbed down her hips and then back up again. Her head lolled back onto his shoulder and she turned her nose to his neck, breathing him in. Her tongue darted out and caught a few droplets of his sweat. He quickly spun her, but this time he kept her close, gripping her hands and allowing her to run them down his chest and stomach and back up again. 

 

“Take off my shirt,” he ordered. His voice was low and husky. Hermione bit her lip, pleased that he seemed to be as affected by their sexy dance as she was. She slid the shirt from his shoulders and down his arms before pulling it free and tossing it haphazardly into the crowd. Draco ground his hips against her in time with the music. With a small wink to the audience, he covered them in the cloak and stole a heated kiss. Then, with a snap, the cape was gone, lost to the back of the stage. Hermione was vaguely aware of a feminine hand reaching out to fight with an apparent stage hand for her souvenir. Her attention was caught by Draco as he placed her hands on the belt securing his trousers. 

 

“Would you do the honors, my lady?” he asked loudly enough to carry through the club. With a broad grin, she quickly unbuckled the belt and yanked it free. Before she could toss it to the stage hand that she now knew was at the back of the stage ready to retrieve the clothing, Draco turned his back to her. 

 

“Spank me,” he ordered. 

 

“Are you sure?” She’d never done this outside of their bedroom, and even then she’d only ever used her hand on him. 

 

With an exaggerated sigh and shake of his head, Draco led her back to the chair, and bent over, gripping the sides of the seat so that his ass was prominently displayed for her. 

 

“Spank me,” he said once more. “But remember that the guy said to be gentle with me.”

 

“You asked for it,” she teased, and looped the belt in her hands. 

 

On the first blow, Draco laughed and said, “Come on, you can do better than that!” 

 

She landed another slap, but felt a little bad as she saw him wince slightly, so the next one was a touch lighter. Draco grunted, and grabbed the belt. 

 

“Your turn,” he grinned. 

 

Hermione swapped places with him, holding onto the seat, and braced herself for the first blow.

 

“ _ You’re holding back!” She panted. Draco smoothed his hand across her backside, rubbing away the sting from his hand. Hermione was on all fours, and he was buried to the hilt inside of her, thrusting away. She knew he’d be surprised by her request that he spank her during their lovemaking, but she had found out years ago that the right hands could really increase her pleasure in this position. _

 

_ “I’ve just never done this before,” he’d whined. “It’s against everything in my nature to hit a woman.”  _

 

_ “Ugh, don’t think of it as hitting me,” she scolded. “It’s just spanking. It’s sexy.” He brought his hand down, cupping her bottom after impact. “That’s better. Do it again.” _

 

After three glancing blows with the belt, Draco spun her so that she was once again sitting on the chair. He straddled her thighs, rolling his pelvis and grinding himself into her. She ran her hands along his thighs and stomach, relishing in the feel of him as he treated her to her first real lap dance. Her hands brushed against his erection, and she raised her eyebrows, meeting his molten eyes that gave nothing away. He leant down and nipped her earlobe. 

 

“I  _ will _ be fucking you as soon as we’re done,” he whispered before pulling away to showboat a bit for the crowd. 

 

Hermione was almost scared to leave the chair, sure that it had melted clean away from the heat she was giving off. She could tell that the song was coming to a close (finally), and Draco was now undoing his trousers. Could she snatch him away before he got them down? Too late. The song ended just as Draco revealed a sequined silver thong, and the crowd lost their minds in delight as he flexed. 

 

The stage went dark, and Hermione sat there dumbfounded, unsure of what to do next. She’d never made it this far the last time that she’d been on this stage. She thought that she could hear Draco hiking up his trousers, and then she felt him take her hand. She gratefully held on tightly as he pulled her to the backstage area, not stopping until they’d reached a dingy one stall lavatory. Once he’d made sure the door was secured, he slammed her back into it, crashing his mouth to hers. 

 

“That was by far the sexiest fucking thing we have ever done,” he grunted as he stopped for breath.

 

“Agreed.” She threaded her fingers through his sweaty locks, and brought his mouth back to hers as he let his trousers fall to the floor. His hands then raced up her thighs to hike her dress up around her waist. She hopped a bit to pull her legs up around his waist, and he roughly moved her panties to the side to begin teasing her with his fingers. As he expertly swirled her wetness, her eyes rolled back in her head. She laced her arms around his bare torso, clenching her fingers into his back as she sought her balance. Hermione moved her mouth down to suck and kiss at his collarbone but pulled up short as she noticed something that distracted her from the euphoria coursing through her. 

 

“Are you wearing body glitter?” she asked, holding back a laugh. 

 

His hands froze in place just before sinking into her. “It’s body  _ oil _ . The other guys said it would look good under the spotlights.”

 

“It’s sparkly,” she snorted as the laughter tried to escape.

 

“Do you really want to talk about this now?” he asked snarkily, circling a finger around her opening and causing her legs to go weak. 

 

“N-n-nooo,” she sighed as his finger slowly entered her channel. 

 

His ministrations were slow and designed to drive her to the brink of insanity. His thumb rubbed her clit as he sank not one, but two more fingers inside and began thrusting. He crooked his fingers towards himself to find the spongy mass of tissue inside of her. Hermione sank her teeth into his shoulder and dug her fingers into his back as body tensed for the approaching orgasm. 

 

Draco gently spread his fingers inside of her, stretching her slightly. She could feel his cock twitching between them, ready to make its grand entrance. He flexed his fingers and stroked her g-spot once, twice more, and Hermione’s whole body came alive. Her back bowed out, and her head knocked against the door as the orgasm crashed through her. Draco swiftly removed his hand, lined his cock up at her entrance, and thrust deep inside of her as she rode the waves of her climax. His arms squeezed her breath away, and he lavished kisses on her neck, jaw, and collarbone as he pumped hard inside of her. 

 

“I’m not gonna last very long,” he panted against her chest. “Do you need-?”

 

“No, ahhh… I’m-  _ ahhhhhhh _ ….” Hermione breathed as she hit her peak once more, though truth be told, she’d never truly come down from her first orgasm that his skillful fingers wrought. Satisfied with her incoherent ramblings, Draco increased his speed. The sounds of slapping flesh echoed dimly through the small restroom. Hermione was sure that her legs were going to give out, but Draco held on to her tightly until he finished, spilling his seed inside of her with one last thrust. His guttural moan reverberated off the tile walls as they both struggled to catch their breaths and balance.

 

“That was…. oh my stars.” Hermione wobbled slightly as her legs ached to hold her upright.

 

“Agreed,” Draco said, echoing her prior statement with a breathless chuckle. 

 

“Where are your clothes?” Hermione asked as she forced her jellied appendages to carry her to the cracked mirror above the sink. “Not that I don’t love the spangled thong, mind.”

 

“You didn’t know I keep a drawer full of these at home?” Draco joked, giving her a view of his firm buttocks as he spun. 

 

“Must’ve missed those on laundry day,” she smirked.

 

“They gave me a little locket thingy back here.” He pointed to a small row of lockers along the wall that was partially hidden by the stall. “It’s for the amateurs, they said. Good thing too, as I had really been stressing over just where I’d have to stash my wand.”

 

Hermione’s mind conjured up an image of Draco with his wand stuck up his bum, and she snorted with laughter. His cocked eyebrow let her know that he knew exactly what she’d pictured, so she turned back to the mirror and wiping away the smudges of eye pencil that were starting to creep to her cheeks. Her hair was thoroughly mussed and she bemoaned the fact that she didn’t have a hair tie nor did she trust anything in this scummy lavatory enough to conjure one up. Would a deflating charm work, she wondered. Better not chance shrinking her whole head. 

 

“You ready?” Draco asked, tucking his Oxford into his trousers. “Hopefully your friends haven’t given up on us and gone home.”

 

“ _ Our _ friends, Draco,” she corrected him as they stepped out into the darkened corridor that led back to the main part of the club.

 

“Not till after the wedding.”

 

“Incorrigible,” Hermione groused quietly.

 

Reaching their booth, Hermione was a bit surprised to find that Harry and Ron had left their two witches alone and were nowhere to be seen. Ginny sat happily crunching ice and rubbing her belly, while Eloise seemed to be doing her level best to cast her eyes on anything other than Draco. 

 

“Did Potter and Weasley not care for the show?” Draco asked the waiting witches. 

 

“Merlin, no,” Ginny laughed. “They escaped out to the pavement as soon as Hermione left for the stage.”

 

“Ah.” Draco plopped down in the booth and sidled up to Ginny. With a roll of her eyes at her mannerless fiancé, Hermione scooted into the booth as well. “So, Potterette, how’d I do?”

 

“Malfoy, if I wasn’t pregnant already, I would be after that,” Ginny said saucily with a pat to his hand. “Truly inspired performance. Well done, Draco.”

 

“And how about you, Ms Midgen? Did you enjoy my dancing?” 

 

Eloise’s cheeks flamed bright red and she fumbled for speech. “I’m, umm, I’m going to find the guys.” She hopped out of the booth and quickly rushed for the door. 

 

“I take it she liked it?” Hermione asked.

 

“Yeah, you may want to keep your eye on her,” Ginny laughed. “She sure as night couldn’t keep her eyes off of Malfoy here! It’s a good thing my brother didn’t stick around.”

 

“So, let’s see,” Draco said. “So far tonight I have consumed copious amounts of alcohol. I’ve gotten a lap dance from a gorgeous woman-”

 

“Umm,  _ you _ gave  _ me _ the lap dance,” Hermione interjected.

 

“Semantics,” he replied. “Where was I? Oh yes, my lap dance. I’ve embarrassed myself in public, that was fun, followed by a spectacular shag-”

 

“I  _ knew _ you were shagging!” Ginny cried.

 

“-in a place that I would never wish to be naked in again. What else can one do on their stag night?”

 

“I think we’ve pretty much covered the gauntlet,” Hermione said. 

 

“As much fun as this has been, I’m inclined to agree,” Ginny said, holding back a yawn. “I just can’t party like I used to.” 

 

“What do you say, are we done here?” Hermione asked Draco. “Are you ready to take me home and love me forever?”

 

“Ah, Love,” he smiled. “I’ve been ready for that longer than you know.”

 

Eloise, Ron, and Harry arrived back at the table. “What do you say, gang?” Harry asked. “One last round before we go?” 

 

They all chimed in their agreements, and Ron flagged down their waiter. Draco requested one last round for the table as well as his card. Once Sam had passed out their fresh drinks, and Draco had signed the tab, Draco raised his glass and called for a toast to end the night properly. 

 

“To my bride,” he said. “To our wedding. More importantly, to our marriage. And lastly, to our love. May it only continue to grow as we grow old together.”

 

“Aww.” The three witches all cooed in unison at the sweet toast, while the men just said “Here, here.” With a clinking of glasses, they all downed their drinks, and headed out of the all male revue, a little drunker, a little closer, and ready for whatever else may come their way.

 

The End


End file.
